


Half Past One (Kinktober ONGOING Fic Series)

by patchwork_panda



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Swap, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Deep throat, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Food Play, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, Japanese Rope Bondage, Jeith - Freeform, Keith is broke, Keith/James Griffin - Freeform, Kinks, Kinktober 2018, Knife-play, Licking, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Lingerie, Lust to love, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Violence, Minor Character Death, Mirror Sex, Missionary, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Obsessive Love, One-Sided Allurance, Overstimulation, Painful Sex, Pining, Police Officer Allura (Voltron), Police Officer Hunk, Police Officer Pidge, Power Bottom Keith, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Role Reversal, Romelle - Freeform, Rope Bondage, Sadism, Scars, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Shibari, Shower Sex, Spanking, Stockings, Sugar Daddy Shiro, Swallowing, Wall Sex, allurance, collaring, everyone has been aged up, formal wear, hints of plance, jaith - Freeform, keith is a sex worker, mafia, mafia Shiro, multiple personality, part time college student keith, police officer lance, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16350455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchwork_panda/pseuds/patchwork_panda
Summary: “How much?”Keith stared. The man who'd sat down next to him at the counter hadn’t so much as batted an eye when Keith had told him he was a hooker. Oddly enough, he’d looked even more intrigued and, dare Keith say it, pleased?----fic in which Keith is a prostitute and Shiro is a hot rich guy who takes Keith back to his place. NSFW ficKinks are tagged in the NOTES of each chapter AT THE BEGINNING. Please read before proceeding with the fic! Thanks!*note: main relationship is Sheith. Chap 9 contains explicit Jeith/Jaith and at least one chap will contain explicit Kuron x Keith.Mentions of Adam W. being Shiro's ex.





	1. Blow Job

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Keith dressed similar to Ga-In in this music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FZdo1vAGwM&t=503s  
> at the 8:23 mark only he wears ripped jeans instead of stockings with holes. And I’m kind of imagining Shiro as being a sexy but shady rich guy (like mafia or something?). 
> 
> Kinktober COMBO ATTACK (#31)! Day 8 (sex work), Day 1 (deep throating), Day 30 (swallowing)
> 
> May be part of an ongoing series if the inspiration continues!!
> 
> Also sorry guys, I don't really know how to write porn without plot? If there's no hint of a plot, my muse doesn't work :<

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***KINK: BLOW JOB***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read all chapter summaries before proceeding. Thanks!

“How much?”

Keith stared. The man who'd sat down next to him at the counter hadn’t so much as batted an eye when Keith had told him he was a hooker. Oddly enough, he’d looked even more intrigued and, dare Keith say it, pleased?

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” he said, swishing the ice around in his glass with a slim black straw. He sat patiently as the man slowly looked him up and down, his gray eyes dark with the kind of hunger Keith had gotten used seeing in peoples’ faces since even before he’d begun selling his body. He took a slow sip of his soda, saying nothing as the man’s eyes trailed down Keith’s face, following the long lines of his neck down Keith’s very low cut tank top, and took a moment to appraise his would-be client.

He wasn’t the sort of man Keith expected to be paying for sex. Not that Keith hadn’t had clients who weren’t good looking or rich—just none quite as good looking or apparently wealthy as this one, judging by the quality of his mechanical right hand. The more he looked at the man, the more intriguing Keith found him. He was tall, broad-shouldered and suave, dressed in a clean-cut suit with pure-white hair and a scar running across the bridge of his nose. His human hand was encircled by a very expensive-looking watch. There was something off about him but not off enough that Keith was willing to turn him down. He brought the straw back to his lips and took a slow sip.

Not yet, anyway.

The man scooted closer, casually flicking a shock of white hair out of his eyes as he leaned forward to whisper in Keith’s ear, his voice just the right kind of low and husky that sent involuntary chills—the good kind—down his spine.

“I’d like to take you home with me for the night. How much for that?”

“The entire night?”

Keith thought for a moment, doing the math in his head, then adding some.

“Three hundred,” he stated flatly, fishing the cherry out of his drink and popping it in his mouth.

The man chuckled and leaned forward.

“Really? That’s all? Seems a little unfair, don’t you think?” 

Before Keith could think of a sassy enough retort, the man placed his robotic hand over Keith’s and said, “Tell you what, I’ll give you six hundred.”

Keith blinked. He usually had to work a few nights for that kind of money. This man was willing to drop all that on him for just one night—rather what was still left of it, considering it was already well past one in the morning? As Keith contemplated his offer, the man slowly stroked one robotic finger across the back of Keith’s hand, sending that pleasant shiver up Keith’s spine one more time. 

The man was handsome. He really was. Even the layers of the well-tailored suit couldn’t hide the muscle that rippled underneath those clothes and as much as Keith didn’t like to admit it, he had a type and this man was it. But he was probably dangerous. That vicious-looking scar across the bridge of his nose and the fact that he was picking up Keith in this run-down diner in this part of town at this hour told him as much.

“What’s your name?” Keith asked, by way of stalling.

“You can call me Shiro.”

The response came with a flash of perfect white teeth and Keith’s heart leaped into his throat. None of his past or future clients could ever be this devastatingly handsome and if he went home with Shiro and lived to tell the tale, he might be taking the risk of getting far too attached. Someone who not only looked good but paid good was rare and he was sure to feel disappointed if Shiro decided not to become a regular client. 

“What do you say? Wait for me outside while I take care of the bill?”

He stroked the back of Keith’s palm again, more slowly, as if he was savoring every point of contact against Keith’s skin in case Keith refused and it was this, more than anything else that helped Keith make up his mind. Paid or not, the sex was sure to be mind-blowing.

“Alright, Shiro.”

He stood and tucked his thumb into his ripped jeans, throwing his weather-beaten leather jacket over his shoulder. He pushed his stool back under the counter with a sharp squeak, abandoning what was left of his late-night meal on the counter top as Shiro got out his wallet. Keith couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn to the layers of bills nestled inside.

“Wait for me by the black car out front. You’ll know which one it is,” Shiro assured him.

* * *

“I’m guessing from the look your doorman gave me that he’s used to you bringing back strays?” Keith muttered.

After a surprisingly short ride in the most expensive car Keith had ever laid eyes on, a beautifully sleek black sports vehicle that he wasn’t even sure was actually on the market, they’d arrived at a remote hotel at the top of a hill overlooking the city. The staff had greeted Shiro like a regular and not even the receptionist so much as gave Keith a second glance before handing him a second card to the Penthouse Suite. None of them had looked Keith in the eyes, however, and as he squinted into the darkness of a very expansive room, he half-wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake and gone home with a serial killer tonight.

Shiro laughed.

“Not exactly.”

He set his briefcase down by the door and inclined his head into the room.

“Go on, make yourself comfortable.”

Keith kicked off his muddy boots where he stood, flicking chunks of dried dirt onto the pristine-looking black floors beyond the doormat, and made his way into the room. When the lights came on around him, his eyes widened.

Decorating this room must have cost a small fortune; not only did everything look like it was built with the latest and greatest of technological advancements, each aspect of the penthouse looked like it had been perfectly designed to match the owner. Keith glanced over at the sleek counter tops of the kitchen as he passed, the pale blue accent lighting looking perfect in the room’s overall black-and-silver color scheme as he made his way into the living room with its modern, minimalistic décor. He dropped his ratty backpack on the boxy-looking monochrome couch and passed the coffee table sitting in the middle of the room, the set perfectly situated in front of the massive flat-screen on the opposite wall, on which softly glowing blue numbers ticked away the time as he passed by. Even the floor he stood on had been polished to a shine, to the point where he could literally see his reflection when he looked down and he grimaced slightly as his eyes fell upon the hole in his sock.

“You stay here a lot?” he asked, going to the heavy-looking gray drapes along the far wall. 

“Only when I’m in town for business trips,” Shiro answered from somewhere near the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He placed one hand, clad in his usual black finger-less gloves, on the curtain and pulled it away. As he looked into the darkness, he caught sight of the city, a brilliant swath of twinkling lights in the distance, glowing like a faraway galaxy in the dark of the night.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He whirled and standing not a breath away, was Shiro, his arm draped casually over the window as he leaned over Keith, a tall bottle of water in his flesh-and-blood hand. He’d already stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie and Keith watched, mouth dry as Shiro gazed into his eyes and smiled.

“Just like you.”

He offered Keith the bottle and the younger man quickly grabbed it and took a sip, for no other reason than to put out the burn spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. Shiro had already undone the first couple buttons of his crisply starched, white shirt and Keith couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn to the smooth lines of well-formed muscle bunching under the man’s clothes. As he tore his gaze away to meet Shiro’s, the corner of the man’s lip lifted gently.

“I don’t think I ever asked your name, did I?” Shiro asked softly.

His hand glided across Keith’s cheek, palm warm and comforting against the young man’s skin and at once, Keith felt a sudden urge to lean into the touch.

“It’s Keith,” he mumbled, staring absentmindedly at Shiro’s mouth as he repeated the name back. Shiro had very finely shaped lips.

“Keith.”

He slowly dragged his thumb across Keith’s face in a soft caress, leaving the skin he’d touched warm and tingling in his wake and as Keith lifted his eyes to meet Shiro’s gaze, he was taken aback by the intensity in the man’s silvery-gray eyes, where he could see his own face reflected back at him by the light of the penthouse lamps. He felt Shiro’s long fingers trailing down his cheek, gathering underneath his chin, the weight of his mechanical arm settling heavily around Keith’s shoulders. He could feel Shiro drawing closer, see his eyes fluttering shut. He could close his eyes too, let this happen for the first time in years but the memory of how that encounter had ended was still too strong. Keith firmly placed his hand against Shiro’s mouth, biting his lip when he felt hot breath against the black fabric of his glove. His own blood tasted like regret.

“Sorry. I don’t kiss.”

Shiro chuckled.

“Of course.”

He let go at once and walked away, leaving Keith’s heart hammering in his chest and a sense that felt strangely like disappointment welling up in his lungs. To cool himself off, he took another sip of his water bottle, only daring to look at Shiro again when he had consumed half the icy contents.

“So, what do you do?” Shiro asked, leaning back against his kitchen counter with his arms crossed. He seemed completely unfazed by the encounter and a part of Keith wanted to make Shiro feel just as frustrated as he was. But then the rational part of his brain took over again and mercifully allowed him to go back to thinking of Shiro as just another client. The hottest client Keith had ever had.

“For two and a half my usual rate,” Keith replied, sticking his thumbs in his jeans, “Just about anything else.”

He made his way over to Shiro, a calculated sway to his hips, and stopped just short of the man’s personal space.

“You got a bedroom or something? Or did you wanna do it out here?” Keith waved his arm, gesturing at the living space. “I don’t mind either way.”

Shiro studied him. His silver eyes suddenly looked dark—like gunmetal.

“Bedroom’s that way,” he said, tilting his head to his left. He was looking at his companion in a way that made Keith feel like he was already naked. Keith bit his lip.

“Come here.”

His fingers encircled Shiro’s human wrist, the pulse warm and steady, maybe slightly elevated beneath his touch, and he pulled Shiro towards his own bedroom.

Just like in the living space, the lights came on as they entered. One by one, several softly glowing square lamps came to life, basking the room in an ambient sunset glow; it would feel romantic if Keith had been Shiro’s date for the night rather than a paid consort. They passed a gleaming black dresser with mirror situated just by the door, a set of elegant, satiny-looking black-out curtains hanging on the far wall and through the walk-in closet doors, Keith spied a small collection of freshly pressed suits and fancy shoes. As he approached the large, square bed in the center of the room, his eyes were drawn to a large abstract painting of a lion hung above the jet black bed frame done in deliberately wide brushstrokes of shining silver and white.

He pushed Shiro onto the bed.

“How do you want me?”

Shiro didn’t answer for a moment, just sat up and watched with hooded eyes as Keith quickly stripped off his worn leather jacket and let it fall to the ground. He licked his lips.

“Keep going,” he whispered, his voice low.

He watched as Keith slowly reached down for the collar of his loosely-fitted wine-red tank top and pulled it up over his head, his gray eyes trained on Keith’s chest and abs. His lip began to curl in a way that made Keith’s clothes feel too heavy, his pants far too tight. He had gotten as far as bringing one palm up to his mouth and peeling off a black finger-less glove with his teeth when he realized Shiro was palming himself through his trousers and he nearly choked when he saw the size of the bulge.

“See something you like, Keith?”

He’d been caught. The glove fell from his mouth as Shiro slowly unzipped his pants and whispered, “How about you take care of this?”

As if hypnotized, Keith dropped to his knees and crawled forward, loving the way Shiro’s eyes flashed as his gaze roamed over Keith’s naked torso. He pushed Shiro’s thighs apart, tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and took the head into his mouth. He heard a soft groan of satisfaction and saw that Shiro’s neck was craning back, his black silky tie hanging loose about his neck, so he kept going, parting his lips and taking more of Shiro in, inch by agonizing inch, digging his fingers into Shiro’s tensing thighs and then pulling his head back and releasing him with a sharp pop, a thin strand of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the corner of his lower lip as he sat back on his legs. He gazed up at Shiro through his lashes and flicked the salty liquid away with a twitch of his thumb.

His only clue that Shiro might be starting to unravel was the faint dusting of color high on his cheekbones.

“See something you like, Shiro?” he asked innocently.

The color in Shiro’s cheeks grew darker as Keith traced his tongue over the leaking tip, flicking it over the split, dragging it over every ridge and bump and he inhaled sharply as Keith suddenly swallowed him back up and just as quickly let go again.

“Tease,” Shiro hissed, an edge to his smile as he watched Keith pop him back in his mouth and run his tongue under the shaft.

“If you don’t like it, I can do things a little different?” Keith whispered, continuing his ministrations. He was enjoying this far too much but he couldn’t help it; Shiro actually tasted pretty good and it was fun watching someone so well-put-together come apart under his touch. What’s more, he was feeling oddly turned on, sucking Shiro off like this. There was nothing wrong with liking his job and he smiled as he took Shiro back in and swallowed, loving the breathless gasp his client let out as more liquid dripped down his throat. 

“No, keep going,” Shiro insisted, his breathing growing ragged. “I wasn’t looking for the boyfriend experience anyway— _fuck!!_ ”

Without warning him, Keith had taken Shiro all the way in, and he grasped Shiro’s hips as his body jerked forwards, into Keith’s mouth, his fingers seizing handfuls of Keith’s dark, choppy hair and Keith felt his eyes sting a little as he fought the gag reflex building up in his throat. He breathed in deep and swallowed slowly, relishing the curse that echoed off the walls as he felt Shiro hit the back of his throat. Carefully, he pulled his mouth away from the base, now slick with his own saliva and brought his bare hand up to the shaft, pumping it in time with his movements, back and forth and back again, closing his eyes and humming against Shiro’s hot, salted skin as the bitter taste continued to slide down his throat. Heat began to creep up his neck as his head steadily bobbed up and down between Shiro’s legs, the fingers clutching his hair growing so tight, he could feel a few individual hairs part company with the scalp.

“Keith—Keith, I’m gonna—”

It was all the warning he got before thick, hot liquid exploded in his mouth, coursing down his throat and nearly gagging him with the sheer volume of it all. But it felt good—so good and he hummed with satisfaction as he drank Shiro down. He could feel that Shiro, still half-hard, trying to pull away but he suddenly grabbed the man’s hips, forcing him to stop. When Shiro looked at him oddly, through half-lidded eyes, he twisted his lips into a smirk, his mouth still firmly latched onto Shiro and swallowed.

Without breaking eye contact.

Shiro’s mouth hung slack, his eyes wide.

“Keith...!”

Ignoring the man’s shuddering gasps, Keith kept going, purposefully running his tongue over each fold and crease even as Shiro threw his head back and shouted something incoherent that sounded almost pained, his fingers curling so tightly around Keith’s shoulders that he knew there would be marks there in the morning. He knew how sensitive Shiro had to be when he’d just cum in Keith’s mouth but he pressed on, drinking up every last drop until he’d finally licked Shiro clean. When he was happy with the result at last, he sat back and wiped the remainder from his lips with an unrefined swipe of the back of his hand, noting the dazed look on Shiro’s face with the kind of satisfaction that he usually only had when he was the one who had come, not his client.

“How was that?” Keith asked, yanking off his other glove and throwing it over his shoulder.

He let out a yelp as Shiro suddenly picked him up and threw him onto the bed, pinning Keith down with the weight of his larger, heavier body.

“Give me ten minutes to nap,” Shiro breathed, his eyes glinting dangerously even though his chest was heaving. “And get some rest. Because when I wake up again, I’m not letting you sleep again for the rest of the night.”

Keith slowly ran his tongue over his upper lip, making sure Shiro could see his every movement.

“Yes, sir.”


	2. Sleepy Sex (everyone's fully awake, just tired)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober Day 29: *Sleepy Sex*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words and support!!  
> I'm honestly surprised this got so much attention. Big thanks to @joltikon on tumblr for reblogging that first chap, otherwise I don't know if I'd have half the views on this thing??
> 
> I'm releasing this chapter a few days early to celebrate Keith's birthday!
> 
> My brain decided to conjure up a skeleton plot so now I'm committed to releasing this as a full series. (updates will be weekly or biweekly so please subscribe if you want the email notifications!)  
> ****VERY IMPORTANT: All kinks will be listed in chapter title and archive warnings will be updated as the series progresses. I haven't sketched out anything except major plot points so I'm not even sure where this whole thing is going lmao. The story is literally writing itself and I have very little control over the events that take place. Keith is 22 here and Shiro is about 27-28.
> 
> It's porn with plot but the plot is not going to be a huge deal so skip what makes you feel uncomfortable and enjoy what you like.  
> I mean, it's a #Kinktober fic series, so not everyone's gonna be on board with every kink. If you need to reach out to me privately to discuss stuff, send me a message @patchwork-panda.tumblr.com. Or if you just wanna scream about Sheith or Sheith porn specifically, PLEASE hit me up!! I live for the conversation :DDD
> 
> Cheers, y'all! ~~匸Pヽ(･ω･｀)

He awoke in the middle of the night to a hand running down his thigh.

  
“Hey.”

  
Shiro’s voice was low, husky, sensual in his ear, his breath hot against Keith’s skin and Keith shivered and drew the covers more tightly about his bare shoulders. He was shirtless but he was so tired he had forgotten to take off his pants and he could feel Shiro’s callused fingertips through the holes in his ripped black jeans.

“You awake?”

He could feel Shiro’s erection through the thin fabric of the man’s boxer-briefs as it pressed against his body.

“I am now,” Keith replied, sliding his hand over Shiro’s robotic one as it gave his thigh a squeeze. “You need something?”

A laugh, a low throaty one and Keith was now definitely more awake. He was still feeling too lazy to move though and he could sense Shiro must also be, through the languidness in the man's movements.

“I believe I said I was not letting you sleep again for the rest of the night.”

Keith let out a small snort as his eyes drifted over to the alarm clock beside the bed.

“Right. Well, dawn’s around the corner so your ten minute nap turned into a five hour one.”

  
“Really, now?”

  
Shiro’s arms wrapped around his waist and tightened. Shiro’s hair, so soft, was mussed against his back as he ducked his head in between Keith’s shoulder blades and kept it there. His breath was a tickle of heat against the small of Keith’s back and the younger man couldn’t fight the soft moan that slipped out between his lips at the unexpected warmth. He sucked in his breath as Shiro laughed against his skin, the surprise evident in his voice. He sounded pleased.

  
“I usually don’t get more than a few hours of sleep at a time. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night. I should thank you.”

  
His hands began to crawl up Keith's stomach, up to his chest. The contact against his skin felt heavy, but pleasantly so and Keith closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, sure that Shiro could hear the assent in his tone.

  
“And how are you planning to do that?” he teased. “I said I’d be yours for the night. There’s maybe three minutes of that left.”

  
“You could stay with me for the next few hours,” Shiro whispered, already nibbling at Keith’s ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  
“Yeah? How?”

  
“Please me and I’ll add a couple hundred to your fees. Sound good?”

  
“Sounds great,” Keith replied, guiding Shiro’s robotic hand to the front of his jeans so the man could feel how great it sounded to him. He heard a low growl and the nips at his neck turned into an actual bite and Keith gasped as his belt was quickly undone and a warm hand was shoved into his underwear. The hand squeezed and he threw his head back, letting Shiro hear just how much he liked it.

  
“That’s it,” Shiro’s voice was nothing more than a harsh rasp against his skin and Keith groaned as the strokes grew firmer and faster. “That’s it, baby.”

  
He closed his eyes and reached his hand up, grabbing a fistful of Shiro’s hair but coming away with only a few long, white strands clutched in his hand, which quickly slipped away as Shiro moved to pepper his neck with soft nips interspersed with kisses, his mouth hot and wet against Keith’s skin. He could feel his pants being hastily tugged down his legs and he moved with heavy, sluggish fingers to help Shiro strip him of the rest of his own clothes, inwardly cursing his decision to wear such tight jeans.

  
He was getting hard, almost painfully so, and he let out another moan, involuntarily loud, as Shiro flicked his thumb over the head of Keith’s leaking erection, rubbing and squeezing and moving in a way that threatened to bring Keith closer and closer to the edge—he hadn’t been touched like this in so long and Shiro was doing it _so goddamn well_ —until he wasn’t and then one warm finger, coated in Keith’s own pre-cum began to tease at his entrance.

He let the sounds roll out of his throat as he felt himself opening, that finger so warm and so slick stroking its way up into him and he forced himself to relax if only to get himself to open faster just so he could feel Shiro’s thick cock inside him that much sooner. The memory of the man’s size was still fresh from last night, un-dulled by the haze of sleep that still clouded his thoughts and Keith _ached_ to have something that thick inside him for the first time in God knew when.

One finger became two, two became three and the strokes over his own cock had resumed, this time with Shiro’s mechanical hand which was pleasantly warm and heavy against his body. He leaned back against Shiro’s chest, sweat beading between their bodies as he sighed and leaned into the touch, pressing his body against Shiro's as the man worked him thoroughly inside and out in a way that made Keith feel like they’d been lovers for years rather than just a few short hours. When Shiro judged Keith was more than ready to take him in, he stopped, removing his lightly coated fingers from the younger man’s body and moving away to search for what they needed next. But Keith, feeling the sudden chill against his back that indicated a lack of Shiro against his skin, hissed and grabbed that hand back.

“Don’t stop,” he hissed, placing Shiro’s human hand firmly back against his body as he snatched the pile of rough black fabric from the ground and rummaged around in his pocket for a condom and hopefully more lube. When he didn’t immediately feel those nice, warm fingers back inside of him, he turned around and fixed Shiro with a look, squinting slightly into the steadily diminishing darkness.

Shiro was staring back at him in the half-light of the coming morning, something patient and contemplative in his gaze and his lips were stretched slightly up at the corners in a thoughtful smile. The effect was devastating. Keith’s hands stilled on the foil packet and the tear stopped at halfway across the top.

“What?”

  
“Nothing,” Shiro replied, hooking a thumb into the hem of his boxer briefs. He watched Keith’s eyes as he slowly drew it along the edge of the fabric and slowly tugged it down. His smile widened as he beheld Keith’s face, his silver eyes glinting like molten steel in the lifting darkness, his gaze piercing and predatory in the thin light of pre-dawn. Keith swallowed.

Shiro pointed to the condom in Keith’s frozen hands.

  
“Aren’t you going to open that?”

  
His underwear was still coming off, the good part still hidden in the folds of the fine black fabric even though Keith could see the trail of coarse, dark hair tracking an uneven path down Shiro’s finely sculpted abdominal muscles. His shirt and tie were still on, albeit greatly loosened and in patches, transparent from sweat—Keith’s sweat—and Keith bit his lip, half wondering if he could burn this image into his retinas for all eternity, or at the very least just enough to recall this sight on the nights when he was feeling much too alone but didn’t want to be. He couldn’t remember when Shiro had put his underwear back on but right now, all he could think about was the frustration of not immediately having the man inside him.

  
“Open the packet, Keith,” Shiro commanded, still toying with the hem of his undergarments. He propped his head up on his arms and continued to watch, the corner of his lip curling in a way that made Keith’s blood race. A twitch of Keith's slim fingers and the packet tore—loudly—and Shiro’s grin widened, the glint in his eyes now decidedly corrupt.

  
“Good boy.”

  
He seized Keith about the waist and hauled him close with his broad chest pressed to his bedmate’s back, stealing the lightly-lubed condom from Keith’s hand and slipping it on before positioning himself at Keith’s entrance. Shiro’s other hand was hot against Keith’s hip, his grip firm against the bone and Keith clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the whine that threatened to spill out as Shiro teased and rubbed against his opening. He was still nice and loose from Shiro’s preparations and he could barely hold back the scream when Shiro suddenly grabbed him by the hips and buried himself in Keith all the way to the hilt.

  
“Good morning,” Shiro chuckled against Keith’s hair, his grip tightening around Keith’s hip bone as he began to slide himself back out. His hands were everywhere, roaming lightly over the skin of Keith’s abdomen, pressing hot and heavy against his chest, flicking his nipples until they were hard, sliding up and down Keith's long legs as he lazily pushed himself in and out, in and out. His movements were slow and purposeful and by the time his fingers had settled again where Keith needed them most, the younger man was feeling boneless and incoherent from Shiro’s touch. He felt the man's grip tighten on his hips, both hands steadying himself using Keith’s own body as purchase and he pushed back determinedly against Shiro when the older man quickened his pace, helping his client thrust himself as deep and hard as he could while they lay sideways on the crisp white sheets of Shiro’s king-sized bed.

  
He was calling Shiro's name. He was getting close, so close that he didn’t care what he sounded like any more—he only wanted that thickness inside him, rubbing him, fucking him—he turned his head sideways and bit into the fabric of his pillow as Shiro pushed even deeper into his body, driving his cock in and out at a pace that was making Keith lose his goddamn mind. That familiar tension was gradually building in his body, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched hard on damp white linen, his fingers digging into the linens and slowly lifting them from the mattress. At this rate, Shiro was going to make him come without going anywhere near his own dick. As if Shiro had read Keith's mind, his human hand abruptly wrapped itself around Keith's shaft and _tugged_.

  
“ _Fuck!!_ ”

  
He doubled over, heat splattering over his own stomach and dirtying the sheets, gasping for breath as Shiro followed not a moment after, yelling Keith’s name as he filled him to the brim with thick, hot fluid. Shiro slumped against Keith’s body, his chin propped up against the back of Keith's head, holding the younger man close as he slowly shrank and finally pulled himself out, Keith shuddering as he felt the liquid-filled latex leaving his body.

  
Suddenly dazed, he rolled over and blinked at Shiro through heavily lidded eyes, gnawing on his own lip as he watched the man lie there, a veritable god with hooded silver eyes, his snow-white hair plastered against his forehead, the sheen of sweaty muscles in his chest bunching and heaving in his near-transparent shirt and loosened black silk tie.

  
“Holy shit,” Shiro gasped, rolling onto his back and bringing a hand up to his forehead, covering his eyes.

"Yeah," Keith agreed, unable to stop staring at the man beside him.

"Seriously."

They lay there in the lifting dark, breathing heavily, one staring into the blackness of his own hand, the other staring at his bed mate.

At once, Shiro stilled. He snuck a peek at Keith through an opening in his fingers and he suddenly seemed hesitant. It was a new look for him and Keith would've reacted more strongly if he didn't feel like he was going to pass out on the spot.

"Hey, Keith... Do you think you could stay here for a few more hours? I actually have to go do something real soon but I should be back before noon if everything goes according to plan. If you could just take a nap and wait for me to come back, I'd appreciate it. I have something I'd like to talk to you about."

“As long as I don’t have to pay for the room,” Keith slurred, blearily staring at the best lay he'd had in recent memory. A few more hours could easily turn into a few days given how thoroughly drained he suddenly felt.

And then Shiro smiled. Really smiled. His gray eyes looked soft and Keith blinked to keep his vision in focus so he could remember this image as well. Sleep was threatening to take him on the spot and he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't imagining this whole thing.

  
“Great! I’ll keep the blackout curtains where they are. You can fix yourself something in the kitchen if you get hungry but if you see something you like on the menu, go ahead and call for room service. You have a key and the room is yours for now.”

  
Keith just gave him a thumbs up, to which Shiro blinked, then laughed. The bed shook and Keith felt his client get up with what must have been a gargantuan effort, judging by the sound of the groan from the opposite end of the bed. He heard shuffling and soft footsteps indicating Shiro had walked over to his side of the bed, whispers as Shiro counted out the money he had promised Keith and laid them with a soft sound onto the end table nearest to Keith, the one with the alarm clock. Shiro turned to him and flashed him a thin, white card before laying it down on top of the bills.

  
“Just in case you do decide to leave.”

Keith really couldn’t understand how Shiro was still standing. He just gave Shiro a sleepy smile and a weak semblance of a wave. His tongue was now too thick in his mouth for proper human speech. He thought he saw Shiro's shoulders shaking with more silent laughter as he covered his mouth with his mechanical hand. Then, as Keith watched, he made a move as if to reach out to ruffle Keith’s hair before thinking better of what he was doing and stopping himself. At once, a curtain fell behind his eyes and he straightened up and walked out of Keith’s line of sight—the door had closed behind him before Keith knew what was happening. He heard a lock click but a quick glance at the main door in the corner told him it was only the bathroom that Shiro had locked himself in. Curious, he lifted his head just a fraction of an inch so he could see the words on the card, as lit up in a soft pale green by the light of the digital alarm clock.

“Takashi Shirogane.”  
XXX-XXX-XXXX

  
He frowned.

  
No other information on the card except for that phone number. Not even a company address or a job title. Weird. Keith shrugged. Grabbing the set of blankets Shiro had tossed aside earlier, Keith rolled over, tucked his head against the pillow and thought no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> I really want to write up a full 31 chapters (longest thing I will ever write) and I would be grateful for any support or help I can get, so commenting/messaging or plugging it on Tumblr would be greatly appreciated!! Thank you again!!


	3. Interlude 1 (sfw/plot chap)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SFW CHAP. NO SEX HERE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know I wanted to make each chap nsfw but I couldn't find a better way to cut this one so, this chap will be mostly sfw (plot establishment but with some hints of gore).
> 
> Warnings for here but not necessarily the rest of the fic: description of a corpse (but not a detailed one), hints of violence. Also much one-sided pining in the police dept in this city, holy shit.
> 
> BUT!! I am working very hard on the next chap (hopefully up by Friday) and part 4 of this fic will definitely be something you shouldn't read when your friends are in the room.
> 
> Thank you all once again for the lovely comments and the support and enthusiasm for this story!  
> Happy Early Halloween and I will see you all at the end of the week. Cheers!

“They’ve struck again, it seems.”

Pidge sighed as she surveyed the scene before her.

The small studio apartment was poorly lit, dank with the smell of death and rank chai. She could barely see a thing but the smell alone told her that this would definitely be a case to remember. Their photographer had barely one moment to snap a picture of the place before someone dry-heaved next to him and immediately barreled past the cops in the hallway on his way to the window. Hunk, covering his nose and mouth with one large hand was already at the far wall, clumsily fumbling at the cheap, plastic blinds with one set nitrile covered fingers for the braided cords when a panicked voice shouted at him from the doorway.

“Hold it, Hunk! We were told to preserve the crime scene!!”

“Yeah, but Lance, this is an emergency!” the big man moaned. He clapped a hand back over his mouth when he turned to face his two friends at the entrance and was force to reexamine the _thing_ on the couch. As if to emphasize his point, his stomach chose that exact moment to gurgle dangerously, prompting the tall, lanky man at the door to quickly exclaim, “Okay, okay! Go for it, man!!”

Without waiting for his companion to finish, Hunk pulled the cords as hard as he could, lifting the entire set of old blinds in one swift motion, showering the far wall with a rain of dust and bathing the apartment in bright morning light.

Lance wrinkled his nose.

“Aw, sick.”

Pidge rolled her eyes as Hunk finally wrenched the creaking window open, gasping and coughing as he breathed in the somewhat fresher air from the outside.

“Welcome to the Special Crimes Division. How long have you been here again?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Haha, very funny,” Lance deadpanned. “Look, all I’m saying is it’s been a while since it took us this long to get to the body.”

Pidge couldn’t disagree with that.

The corpse on the couch had to have been there for weeks, judging by the smell and the extent of the decay. Slumped against a dully colored set of ragged cushions, with a moldy mug of spiced tea on the coffee table before him, lay the remains of what used to be a middle-aged man. The apartment around him appeared largely undisturbed, with all books still stacked neatly on the shelves, his laptop lying closed on the kitchen counter and dishes put away neatly in the cabinets. Everything in the apartment was covered in a thick layer of dust and if it weren’t for the gaping hole in his temple and the horrific splatter of blood and brains all over the right side of the couch, one might’ve thought the old man had passed in his sleep.

“Clean job,” Lance whistled, stepping over to the counter to get a few photographs of the laptop before Pidge could get her hands on it. He whipped out a ruler and some flags and lay them against the cracked tiles. “Very clean.”

“I’d say so,” Pidge agreed, adjusting her glasses as she joined him. She jotted down some notes on her tablet and glanced at the body sitting on the couch. “Poor old Slav. If only he didn’t talk about alternate realities so much.”

The reclusive former tenant of the apartment had not been popular with the neighbors. In fact, nobody had even bothered reporting him missing until this morning, when a curious, good-natured man from down the hall had poked his head in to investigate the odd smell coming from the old man’s room. When he’d knocked, the door had swung open, revealing the full atrocity within and the man had immediately called the cops but not before throwing up on the welcome mat.

“Yeah. Hey, Hunk, you think you could bag up the evidence in the wall over there?” Lance asked, tilting his head to the wall to indicate the small crater beside the blinds.  
Hunk’s mouth flattened into a thin line.

“Oh, you mean what’s left of the bullet if there’s even anything still there?”

“Just try it, Hunk.”

Grumbling under his breath, the ballistics engineer closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking one last breath of fresh air from the open window before turning his attention to the tiny crater on the wall to his right. He took a tiny pair of forceps out of his shirt pocket and started rooting around the hole with it, his tongue stuck out between his teeth and his brows furrowed in concentration. After poking around for a solid minute and a half, his expression soured even further.

“Yep, there’s nothing here. Good old Kuron... I swear, their freaking mafia hitmen are getting better and better. They even gouged out part of the wall to retrieve their bullet!”

“Hush!” Lance hissed, immediately looking around as if the assassin might be right behind them, listening in. “We’re not supposed to mention them unless we actually _confirm_ it’s them!”

“Oh, it’s them alright,” Hunk deadpanned. “Clean kill, single bullet to the temple, untraceable weapon, no sign of forced entry or struggle. C’mon, Lance.”  
Lance sighed.

“Yeah, I know, but Chief Allura said—”

“If Chief Allura told you to stick your hand into a blender, you’d ask her which setting,” Pidge quipped, not looking up from her tablet as she jotted down notes onto her screen. “Which she might if you don’t have at least a few photos of the actual body in your camera by the time she gets here.”

Lance scowled deeply but did as she suggested, donning a surgical mask and stepping around her to get to the couch. Then, struck by inspiration, he paused on his way to the body and added yet another surgical mask on top of the first, ignoring Hunk’s demand for a mask of his own as the photographer knelt by the couch.

“Must’ve been dead for a couple weeks at least,” he mumbled, aiming the lens at the bullet wound. The flash went off and he peered at his camera screen before aiming another shot at the face. “What’s the story on him?”

“Slav Mukherjee, age sixty-two,” Pidge read off her own notes. “Been living here about ten years now, known to stay in his room for weeks on end, ranting and raving about mathematical calculations, death and alternate realities, not necessarily in that order. The last landlord says he tried to collect the rent on a quote-unquote ‘Bad Day’ and the old man chased him out of the room with a busted up slide rule.”

She scrolled down the screen and whistled.

“Nearly took out his eye too. Nice.”

Lance and Hunk exchanged a glance.

“Last landlord?”

“Yeah, shortly after the Bad Day incident, he sold the building to some hot-shot up-and-coming real estate group.” She lowered her clipboard and gave Hunk a meaningful look. “You know, the one that just showed up a while back and started buying up small properties in the city?”

Her expression was grim.

“Hunk’s got a good point. It’s probably exactly who we’re thinking of.”

“Which is why I need all of you to be absolutely meticulous about the way you handle this crime scene,” said a lightly-accented feminine voice from the doorway.

“Chief Allura!”

In unison, Pidge and Hunk slapped their palms to their foreheads as they beheld the expression on Lance’s face.

A tall, dark, regal-looking woman dressed in a deep blue tailored suit stepped into the room, her beautiful silvery hair piled high on her head in a professional, voluminous bun. Tucking her hands behind her back, she marched into the room with a stern expression on her face, looking far more like a seasoned military commander than the youngest chief of police in the city’s short history. An apt comparison given the current situation they found themselves in.

She stopped just short of the couch and paused to take in the scene around her. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed.

“Lance, how many angles have you got from the couch?”

“Uhh, twelve.”

“Good. I want eight more. Get a wide shot of the splatter for analysis. I want this whole room replicated in a digital model by the end of tonight.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Lance exclaimed, looking almost giddy that she’d praised him and resumed snapping photos at a frightening speed.

“Hunk, did you find anything in the wall?”

“No, Ma’am,” he replied and she made a noise of displeasure. She didn’t seem surprised, however.

“Figures. Thank you, Hunk. You did your best,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “Have Pidge create a digital model of that crater and maybe you can get something from it via computer analysis.”

“Yes, Chief.”

“How are we doing with interviewing the neighbors, Pidge?”

“Well, we got Sven chatting with a couple detectives in his room down the hall,” she replied. “He’s the one who found the body this morning.”

“And?”

“...We don’t think it’s him,” Pidge said, her eyes flicking to the mess by the door.

“Well, it’s certainly not any of the Galra splinter groups,” Allura said quietly, folding her arms across her chest and the other three exchanged a bewildered glance.

Her verbal acknowledgment of what they’d all been thinking cast a chill over the room. 

The war lord Zarkon had operated in this town decades ago. His methods were as efficient as they were cruel and he was known to leave nightmarishly bloody crime scenes and lurid headlines in his wake wherever he struck, as a warning to anyone who was even thinking of crossing him. For generations, his organization ran the city, until a public shootout a few years ago put an end to his reign of terror. Rumor had it the organization had since splintered into several smaller factions, each headed by a different leader with a unique calling card, all of them vying for control of the city underworld now that a power vacuum had been created.

In the following years, Allura’s division had become well acquainted with the signature of each and every group. Sendak, the frontrunner, was known to leave bodies hacked to bits, while Zarkon’s widow, Honerva, would only take the victims’ right hand as a trophy, sometimes even the entire arm if the person had done something especially offensive. As far as the police knew, the son, Lotor, was slowly gaining the upper hand. Compared to his father, he was far more sly and calculating but still nowhere near as vicious as Honerva. Curiously though, his victims did tend to be those who had already run afoul of the law and Lance had a theory that Lotor fancied himself a sort of Robin Hood type, who only punished wrongdoers in an attempt to win over the support of the public and possibly eventually the police themselves. But dashing rogue or no, he was a criminal and Allura had sworn to catch him with her own hands before the end of her run as chief.

That left the killer they suspected they were dealing with today.

Pidge was the one who had dubbed them “Operation Kuron.” They were a solitary individual or set of assassins who specialized in very quiet, very deliberate kills. Never any sign of forced entry or struggle, they moved in the shadows of shadows, targeting high-ranking members or sympathizers of other coalitions and were so careful to never leave any evidence behind, that to date, not a single identifying feature of any of the hit men responsible could be determined. Even within the Special Crimes Division, there were those who suspected the operation was about as real as the boogeyman.

But Allura knew. 

And as the coroner finally arrived to take the corpse away for further analysis, her eyes hardened. She eyed each member of her specially picked team and barked out orders.

“I want this whole place ready for analysis by the end of the week, all tenants thoroughly vetted and interviewed,” she declared. She paused by the door and shot them all a meaningful look. “We need to figure out who they are and establish a pattern or the whole tri-county area will be in for it for God-knows-how-long. Now get to it, team.”

The coroner, a tall red-headed man with a well-kept mustache, patted her on the back on her way out, her coat billowing behind her like a khaki poplin cape.

“I want her to step on me,” Lance whispered hoarsely.

Pidge shot him a disgusted look.

* * *

The door opened with a soft beep and Keith sat up abruptly on the couch, nearly spilling his coffee down his shirt as he hurriedly took his bare feet off the coffee table. He put the TV on mute and looked towards the doorway.

“You’re back.”

“You’re still here,” Shiro said, looking relieved. 

Relieved, but tired. Keith noted the bags under Shiro’s eyes, the slight pallor of his skin, the way his scar stood out in sharp relief as he walked forwards into the bright natural light of the living space. He had changed his black suit and matching tie from the night before for a dark gray set, which had been beautifully tailored to emphasize his shoulders and sturdy figure. Even in the poor lighting of the corner diner, Shiro had looked stunning but in the light of day...

Keith had no idea why Shiro had picked _him_ up when the man probably had people throwing themselves at him left and right.

He watched as Shiro sat down heavily on the opposite end of the couch, setting his briefcase down by his feet as he rested his back against the cushions. The fingers of his robotic hand came to a rest over his dulled gray eyes and he breathed out in a long, drawn-out sigh.

“I’m happy to see you,” he admitted. “There’s days when it gets hard to come back to an empty room.”

The tension had not quite gone from his broad shoulders.

“Well, yeah...” Keith said slowly, resting his chin on his hand, “You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

He tried to smile but Shiro was still not looking at him, so he took a small sip of his coffee instead. It had taken him several tries to figure out Shiro’s futuristic Keurig and while he wasn’t quite pleased with the result, it was hardly any worse than the coffee he usually got at the diner. He thought about offering Shiro some of his half-finished drink but thought better of it when he felt a wave of grit and grounds stick to the back of his throat.

“Yeah, I did.”

Taking his hand away from his face at last, he regarded Keith with one gray eye. In the daylight, his iris seemed to shine like the tempered steel of a well-crafted blade, his gaze as discerning as it was inscrutable. Keith couldn’t stop staring.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Huh?” Keith faltered. Shiro’s question had taken him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, I did. Thanks. It’s really comfortable in there.”

Shiro’s gaze warmed, imperceptibly so.

“Good. I’m glad you like it here.”

And there it was again, the hint of the man behind the mask, something warm and gentle, like a furtive ray of sun making its way out in an overcast sky. But before Keith could get a closer look, a shadow passed over the apartment from outside and the man’s expression was once again as inscrutable as a stone statue’s.

“Shiro, right? What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked when he dared speak at last.

Shiro took his hand away from his eyes and smiled. The look in his eyes abruptly brought all the memories of the night before surging back with a vengeance and suddenly Keith could barely hear anything the man said over the sound of his own pulse thundering in his ears.

“I wanted to see if you’d be interested in a more... long-term arrangement,” Shiro replied carefully.

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together between his knees, his posture suddenly confident and commanding.

“You see, I’m going to be in town for the next few weeks on business and I get the feeling it’s going to get kind of lonely. I was wondering if you’d be interested in making my stay a little more... comfortable.”

Keith’s mouth went dry. He set down his coffee.

“Go on.”

Shiro’s smile widened. His eyes were dark.

“I had fun last night, Keith. A _lot_ of fun... and I get the feeling you did too. I could make it worth your while if you spend a little more time with me.” 

“How much time are we talking?” Keith asked, sliding towards him.

Shiro’s gaze intensified.

“Every night I’m in town.”

“ _Every_... night?”

“That’s right,” Shiro mused, studying Keith in a way that made him feel a little like a dessert behind a glass case. His blood was racing in his veins but he kept leaning in. Shiro began moving towards him as well.

“I understand if you’ve already got other clients booked up for the next few weeks, so I won’t ask to be the only one you’re with. _But_ \--I would like to have you around for most of my trip. You’re welcome to stay in the suite whenever you need to rest, do what you need to take care of yourself but I will ask that you not bring any other clients back here.”

He paused, gaze flicking away for the briefest of seconds before returning his attention to Keith.

“It’s... not safe for them, you see.”

“But it’s safe for me?” Keith asked cautiously. They were only a few feet apart and he could see the clouds churning behind Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro’s lip curled upwards in a smirk that Keith found impossibly sexy. Definitely one of Shiro’s finer features.

“I guarantee it.”

Keith was scarcely breathing. He wet his lips, hyper-aware of the way Shiro looked at him when he did so. Shiro’s face was only inches away.

“Alright. I trust you... Shiro.”

“Great,” Shiro whispered, stroking Keith’s cheek as if he were a stray cat who’d come home after a long journey away. “Now that we’ve talked, I have a present for you.”

He abruptly pulled away and reached for his suitcase, leaving a very disoriented Keith sitting stock-still on the couch, his cheek still burning from Shiro’s touch. He recovered only when Shiro opened the suitcase and set a small, glossy, black paper bag before him, embossed with some kind of lettering that looked to Keith’s eyes like a designer label, layers of pale, thin tissue paper spilling out from the opening like fluffy white feathers. When Keith looked to him questioningly, Shiro only smiled again and reached for his hand. He gave Keith’s fingers a loving squeeze.

“Just something I saw that I thought would look good on you,” he said by way of explanation. 

He stood, taking his hand away and Keith was struck with a sudden impulse to snatch it back.

“I’m going to try to catch a nap,” Shiro said, covering his yawn with his prosthetic hand. “Remember, you’re free to come and go as you like and absolutely everything we do together is negotiable... but I would like to see you again tonight, work schedule permitting. I’m usually back by ten.”

He loosened his tie, scanning Keith’s face as he waited for a response.

“Sound good?”

Keith slowly reached for the bag, making sure Shiro could see the way his fingers curled around the handle, the tissue paper crinkling noisily as he pulled it towards himself. He could feel his smile naturally turning into a smirk as he stood to face Shiro, drawing close enough to gently smooth down a crease in the man’s shirt.

“Sounds perfect.”


	4. Lingerie + Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 (Lingerie) + Day 17 (Masturbation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> If you are reading this, I'd like to take a moment to say thank you for your continuing interest in this fic!  
> I've introduced some plot into the porn and I know that it's not the most exciting thing for many people in a story like this, especially when the pacing wasn't that good last chapter (sorry about that) so if you're reading this, I really am thankful to see you here!!
> 
> This chapter was especially hard for me to write bc I was struck with a long week of writers' block but it's up, it's here and it's twice as much sexy stuff as the usual 1 per chapter.
> 
> Big shout out to @salineshots for leaving me that beautiful comment on the last chapter I posted and to @MelMeikoMeiLing for always being there when I need someone to rant to!! I was legit thinking about giving up on this whole fic even though I'd actually planned it all out already but you've inspired me to keep going, so really really thank you so much for being as amazing as you are!
> 
> I really really hope you guys like this one. Much love to you all!

Shiro had said everything was negotiable. But this—this was not.

As soon as Keith had reached into the paper bag and pulled out the silky red number, he _knew_ he had to wear it that night. So at ten on the dot, when a faint beep signaled Shiro’s return to the penthouse suite, Keith called out to him from his place in the hall.

“ _Shiro..._ Over here, Shiro.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he thought about the kind of face Shiro would make when he saw what Keith had been planning for him and was not disappointed when the man finally rounded the corner. As soon as Shiro’s eyes fell upon Keith, leaning against the door to his bedroom wearing nothing but the bright red lace teddy Shiro had bought him earlier that day, he dropped suitcase to the floor and it popped open with a crash.

“You were right, Shiro,” Keith mused, toying with the ends of the long ribbon around his neck, deep indigo eyes flicking up to take in the man’s reaction. “It does look good on me.”

His smirk widened when he realized that he'd actually rendered Shiro unable to speak.

Taking advantage of his client’s momentary paralysis, Keith slowly stepped forward, gently placing one bare foot in front of the other and letting his long legs catch the light of the dimmed lamps on the walls as he moved. He could feel the heat of Shiro's gaze on his skin, see those beautiful gray irises cloud over with lust, practically _hear_ the indecent thoughts running through Shiro’s mind as Keith steadily came closer.

Shiro really had spent quite some time feeling him up last night. The shape and cut of the lingerie he wore was nothing short of _impeccable_ , from the way the halter top form stretched just so over his shoulders and chest, to the way it followed the long lines of his body and curved comfortably around his hips. Sheer red fabric clung to every curve and muscle of his torso like a second skin, patterning his whole front in an elegant repeating motif of something not quite floral but not quite masculine, the color contrast between pale skin and bright red lace absolutely breath-taking even in the dimmed light of the suite. It was perfect down to the fastening at Keith's neck, which was just the right circumference, not too tight but not so loose that the ribbon was in danger of coming undone on its own—Shiro would have to pull the knot apart himself if he wanted to get Keith out of his little bodysuit and judging by the look in his eyes, he was in no hurry to do so.

“Do you like it? Shiro?” he whispered, letting his hands creep up the man’s chest as he reached to undo his tie. “I know _I_ do.”

“You look amazing,” Shiro replied at last, his voice husky as he drank in the sight before him. He slowly trailed his callused fingers down Keith’s bare back, letting his robotic hand come to a rest at Keith’s waist. Metallic fingers played with the fastening around his hip. “Were you waiting a long time for me?”

“No,” Keith lied easily, “Not really.”

“Liar,” Shiro chuckled, breath hot and sweet against Keith’s cheek, as he drew the younger man close. “The staff told me you hadn’t left all day. You want to stay and be my little pet? Is that it?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Keith replied, placing Shiro’s robotic hand over his backside and letting the man get a good feel of his ass. There was no fabric covering the back of his body and he thought he felt the metal and fabric burn a little hotter as that artificial palm glided over his bare skin. He wondered how well Shiro could feel with his prosthetic and found himself praying the sensation was just as good as in his flesh-and-blood hand. He bit back a groan as Shiro hand gave him a good squeeze.

“Really now?” Shiro mused, fingers playing at Keith’s entrance in a way that made the younger man struggle not to squirm in his grasp. His human fingers crept lower down Keith’s spine. “Someone like you, who carries himself like a proud stray, too good for the trappings of a comfortable suburban life, would agree to being locked in a gilded cage, all day long, simply to be used for another man’s pleasure?”

“I would if it was you,” Keith whispered teasingly. But then his breath hitched in his throat and he pressed his face into Shiro’s chest as one finger slowly probed its way in. The metal was smooth and warm and he fought the urge to squeeze as it inched its way in further. His fingers curled into Shiro’s shirt.

“You’ve got some serious kinks, Keith.”

Shiro’s grip tightened around Keith’s hips. The finger slid home and Keith choked out a curse.

“Really... What am I going to do with you?” Shiro asked, forcefully grinding his hips against Keith’s as the man in his grip let out a barely suppressed whine.

Keith could feel Shiro rapidly hardening through the expensive fabric of those dark slacks and without thinking too much about what he was doing, he started to push himself against Shiro's body so that he could get more of that delicious contact. From the way his own erection strained and pulled against the thin cloth covering his crotch, he wasn’t sure how much longer _he_ would be able to take it if he didn’t get _something_ and he ground his hips against Shiro’s with a breathy sigh. But before he could even get it to feel good, Shiro grabbed him roughly and pushed him away. A small smile tugged at the corner of Shiro's lips as he beheld the surprised and frustrated look on Keith’s face and that smile grew as he felt Keith struggling in his grasp.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Keith didn’t need to be told twice.

He grabbed Shiro’s hand and yanked him down the hall, pulling him along at an almost half-run when Shiro suddenly grabbed Keith about the waist and lifted him into his arms, only to deposit him so roughly onto the bed that he felt his back bounce against the mattress when he landed. Within moments, his wrists were yanked over his head and pinned down by a heavy metallic hand and he _squirmed_ as Shiro bent forward and licked a long wet trail up the side of his neck to his ear.

“You look really good, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was a harsh whisper in his ear and he let out a hiss as Shiro bit into his earlobe. “Really-- _really_ good. Want me to eat you up?”

He punctuated his question with another playful bite and Keith let out something that sounded all too much like a squeak. He could feel Shiro’s human hand gliding down the lines of his abs, smoothing down the lace fabric as it headed further south and he couldn’t help the moan that slipped past his lips when Shiro finally palmed him over the surface of the sheer cloth. Something about the way the thin polyester and lace lay against his skin heightened every sensation Shiro subjected him to and he shuddered and twitched as Shiro ran his fingers over him, his breath coming out in a choked gasp as those fingers finally freed him from his red-mesh prison and curled tightly around his cock.

“I knew this would be a good look on you, Keith,” Shiro said, pumping his hand once as Keith let out another soft cry. “Something about that fiery personality and the color red. It’s cliché, I know, but you gotta admit--”

Another pump and Keith’s head snapped back against the pillow.

“--it works.”

He continued jerking Keith off, watching him intensely with those gunmetal gray eyes as Keith writhed beneath him, gasping and panting with every pull of Shiro’s hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead, seeped into the thin cloth of his bodysuit—he could see the reflection of the lamp light in the gleam of Shiro’s eyes as he arched his back, pushing himself deeper into the man’s hand. And then, in the dim light of the bedroom, he watched his sweat-soaked lingerie steadily darken into a shade resembling freshly spilled blood; his heart pounded madly in his chest as he took one look at Shiro’s face, his eyes hooded over and his expression unreadable as he pointedly stared at the thin red lines curling around Keith’s lithe, toned body.

“Shiro?”

His words ended on a strangled cry as Shiro’s grip suddenly tightened around his cock. Without warning, he started pumping Keith faster and faster and the younger man bucked and keened like a wild thing in his grip. It was almost too much, too fast. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but try to relieve the pressure building in his groin. And with nothing but Shiro’s slicked up hand stroking him towards a violent release, he was forced to listen to the sound of his own voice as he cried out for Shiro, cried out for him to keep going, _please_ \--

He came with a surge of adrenaline and heat, his chest heaving, his legs shaking and weak and he fell back against the sheets, opening his tired eyes to see Shiro undoing his belt and sliding a heavily lubed up condom onto his thick cock.

“Turn around,” Shiro commanded and though he was winded and half-drained, Keith didn’t hesitate to comply.

No sooner had he rolled over onto his knees than Shiro began pressing down upon his backside, large hands propped up on either side of Keith’s flushed face as he carefully positioned himself over Keith’s quaking body. His entire ass was exposed, a nice little built-in window that the lingerie’s designer had clearly intended for this exact purpose and Keith shivered when he saw the dark look in Shiro’s eyes. 

Soft as a whisper, Shiro’s human hand glided over the skin of Keith’s shoulders and lower back, leaving goosebumps in his wake and making Keith shudder even more from the unexpected contact. With one finger, Shiro traced the patterns that had been pressed into Keith’s flesh from the lace overlay of his bodysuit, then toyed with the ties around Keith’s hips. He lightly pulled at a strap and let it go, making Keith yelp when it snapped back against his skin like a rubber band.

“Sorry,” he chuckled when Keith shot him an annoyed glare. “Did that hurt?”

“Come on, just fuck me already,” Keith snapped, pushing back impatiently and growling irritably when Shiro kept him at bay.

“I will, but... _God_ , you look beautiful in that,” he whispered, stroking the curve of Keith’s bare ass. “Let me look at you a little longer, okay?”

But when Keith made another face, Shiro threw his head back and laughed. The sound set something in motion deep inside his heart and before he got a chance to figure out what it was, Shiro had stopped laughing and was already positioning himself against Keith’s backside.

“Okay, baby. Let me give you what you want. What we _both_ want.”

Inch by inch, he started pushing his way in. He was so much thicker than Keith remembered him being the night before and his breath came out in a soft moan as he felt Shiro burying himself all the way to the hilt. He shifted his legs to make it easier for Shiro to move and felt rather than heard the soft chuckle as Shiro took full advantage of the change in their positions and started thrusting himself in and out. Whenever Shiro moved, Keith moved with him, rocking his hips against the man’s body and squeezing as hard as he could so that he could savor every last inch of Shiro’s wonderfully hard length. It didn’t take long for Shiro to really pick up the pace, their bodies moving and sliding together in tandem as the sound of their ragged pants filled the room.

Keith’s back was pressed flush against Shiro’s stomach, the thin white dress shirt between them was growing damp with sweat and he sucked in a breath as he felt the hook of one of his fastenings get caught around one of Shiro’s lower buttons. He heard a muffled pop, felt the stretchy strap around his waist come loose and he shifted his upper body so that he could turn around and bring this to Shiro’s attention. But the words died on his tongue as soon as he caught the look on the man's face.

In the dim light of his bedroom, Shiro’s eyes shone bright, his irises glowing like rings of molten silver as he stared sensuously into Keith’s eyes. Those eyes burned with a kind of inner fire Keith had never seen before and as Shiro leaned forward to whisper Keith’s name into his ear, something constricted around his heart.

“Shiro...”

He felt that familiar burst of heat inside his body just as Shiro shuddered over his body and buried his face in the young man’s neck. With a labored groan, he carefully pushed himself off of Keith and rolled over onto his side, breathing heavily and falling quickly into a deep sleep, leaving his bed mate wide-eyed and staring as he lay upon his stomach, clothes and hair mussed almost beyond repair and his lower half suddenly throbbing and leaking like never before.

That night, as he finished himself off in the dark, Keith kept his eyes trained on Shiro’s broad back, unable to think of anything except the look in the man’s silver eyes when he had stared into Keith’s soul.

* * *

“Keith.”

Keith frowned and picked the coin up off the ground. He rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb and his frown deepened as his thumbprint dulled the shine of the freshly minted metal.  
He knew it wasn’t pure silver but it still didn’t hold a candle to Shiro’s eyes.

_“Keith.”_

The voice called again, more insistently this time. Someone tapped him on the shoulder but he didn’t move.

“For goodness, sake, Keith! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He dropped the coin with a clatter and turned to his right, where a very angry, very pretty girl with long blond hair and purple eyes was staring at him with her arms crossed and one booted foot tapping the ground. She huffed irritably when she’d finally gotten her friend’s attention and fixed him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Romelle. Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

“The notes, Keith!”

She threw her hands up in the air and looked at him with an air of incredulity.

“I wanted to know if you were finished borrowing my notes yet. I swear, I don’t know what kind of part-time job you’ve picked up but you’ve really got to get more sleep if you’re planning to pass Professor Montgomery’s class this semester.”

She placed her hands on her hips and resumed tapping her foot impatiently.

“I swear, you are a special case, Keith Kogane. First you drop off the face of the Earth right after high school graduation. Then you show up again years later, way after everyone else has already completed their bachelors’ degrees and announce you’re going back to technical school “so you can get some kind of degree." And now—? Now your attendance is really starting to slip and you show up tired every other day looking like you slept in a cheap motel and got ready behind the dumpsters." She shot him a half exasperated, half admiring look and continued, "And yet somehow, you’re still passing your classes with flying colors, thanks to yours truly, AND everyone still thinks you look hot! What gives?!"

Keith tried to glower (unsuccessfully, he probably looked as smug as he felt) and refused to answer her when she finally exclaimed, "What are you even doing every night--?”

“It’s fine, Romelle. You just do what you need to do,” he replied, fishing around in his backpack for the little notebook Romelle had gotten used to lending him. 

She was old-fashioned, that girl, but her notes were better than anyone else's in their class. Keith still didn't understand how she was able to write that neatly when her pen was always flying over the page but she was as impressive as she was kind and he counted himself lucky that he had a friend like her around. Honestly, given the way high school had gone for him, he thought himself lucky that he even had single person to call a friend on this campus, much less someone else his own age and as smart as Romelle. As he moved his belongings around in his bag, he offered her an apologetic half-smile and mumbled something about how he owed her one for this. But Romelle merely looked at him with her hand outstretched and he rolled his eyes and went back to digging around in his bag. He shuffled around for another minute, then paused.

His dark eyebrows creased together and he dropped down to one knee and started hastily pulling out the contents of his ratty black bag, dumping each item unceremoniously onto the pavement in the central courtyard of their college campus as Romelle squawked and backed away in surprise. Young passersby stared and walked around them as Romelle alternately shot them apologetic looks while aiming horrifically piercing glares at Keith. But the backpack was gradually emptying and Keith was starting to feel the beads of cold sweat dripping on his temples. His movements sped up and he pulled out several more items: loose papers, a glasses case, a half-eaten granola bar... 

A single memory floated back to him, of lazily lying on his stomach in a pool of sunlight in Shiro’s penthouse suite by the massive window, wearing only his ripped jeans while his textbooks and a small notebook gradually scattered further and further away all around him. He had been chewing on the end of his tablet pen as he perused the lesson plan and absentmindedly wondering if Shiro knew anything about quantum mechanics equations. Or maybe he wouldn't even be capable of answering if he were to come in right now. Maybe he would decide he was much more interested in taking the very shirtless Keith on the spot...

His bag empty at last, Keith's dark blue eyes widened and Romelle blanched.

“Oh no. No. Don’t tell me you don’t have them,” she stammered, her beautiful accent marred with panic and her hands flying to her hair. Her left eye twitched. “If you lost my notes from last Wednesday’s lecture, I will personally tear you a new--”

“Shit, I must’ve left them at Shiro's—I mean _my_ place.”

Romelle blinked. Her eyebrow quirked up.

“Shiro--? Is that your new roommate?” Her mouth dropped open, all animosity quickly forgotten. “Keith, did you finally get a new place to live?”

“You could say that,” Keith replied hastily, stuffing his meager belongings back in his bag. “It’s a temporary housing situation but it’s a good place in a nice location. So you don’t have to worry about your roommates getting angry at you for me crashing on your couch--”

“They’re not angry, Keith,” she sighed, twirling one long blonde pigtail around her finger. “I think we’re all just worried about you.”

She grimaced.

“Okay, maybe Sarah’s a _little_ angry at you because you won’t go on a date with her but I already tried explaining to her that you weren’t interested in women. Anyway, if you've got a place to stay for now, it probably is best if you get your suitcase out of our living room as soon as you can (I don't know _what_ that girl might do to you if you snub her one more time) _but_ first things first! You get me my notes." She crossed her arms threateningly. "Or else.”

“I’ll text you the highest resolution photos I can manage as soon as I get back to my place tonight. I swear I will.”

He fished around for his wallet and pulled out one of Shiro's hundreds. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I mean it, I'm really sorry. Let me treat you to lunch to make up for it, okay?.”

Romelle’s eyebrows shot clean into her hair.

“Holy shit,” she gasped as she eyed the money in his hand. “This new job _really is_ paying you well.”

* * *

That it was. When Keith returned to the penthouse suite that evening, he found five hundred dollars and another card with Shiro’s full name printed on it, this time with the original phone number crossed out and a different one scribbled underneath. He shrugged and pocketed the money, replacing the old number on his outdated cell phone with the new digits and set about looking for Romelle’s notes. In no time, he found the flat, pink notebook placed neatly in the center of the kitchen table, no doubt by the cleaning staff, right next to a small vase of white flowers accented by leafy silver fillers. Curiously, he lifted one of the silver accents out of the vase and turned it over in his fingers.

It was some kind of ground cover plant, perhaps, seeming like the type that grew in bunches, with a dusty-looking silver sheen coating over large thickened leaves. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. 

No smell.

How fitting for the guest of this room. The one who he knew basically nothing about.

He put it down and glanced around the suite. Shiro had not been in all day. The place was pristine, having been freshly cleaned first thing in the morning and then it was left to sit. Sit and wait for the master for the remainder of the day. 

Just like Keith.

He frowned, wondering if he, too, had become just another fine item that had been added to Shiro’s small collection of expensive things, if only temporarily so. He had been perfectly fine with this arrangement when they’d discussed it yesterday afternoon on the couch but now... 

His eyes drifted over to a tiny silver lion statuette seated by the television and he instantly, involuntarily recalled Shiro’s eyes again. He bit his lip.

...Now he was not so sure.

Keith had left so early for classes that morning that he didn’t even know when Shiro was going to come back and there had been no time indicated on the card Shiro had left for him on the table. It had been strangely difficult to pull himself away from Shiro’s side that morning as he’d gotten dressed and even now his head buzzed with the nagging feeling that something was clearly amiss. Just as recently as last week, he’d left a client behind without so much as a second glance, as was his penchant, but with this one... he’d carefully considered his options and he would have been willing to come back to bed should Shiro wake upon Keith’s rising and confidently beckon him forward with one robotic finger.

But Shiro hadn’t woken up—he’d remained peacefully snoozing with the covers half off his shoulders as Keith had crawled out of the sheets and he’d made not a single movement when Keith had accidentally tripped on his way out the door. Carefully and quietly, Keith had left with the bedroom door half open so that he could get one last glance at the hulking shape still sleeping blissfully in the bed as he followed the morning light out down the hallway. A hulking shape that was definitely not going to be there if Keith decided to go back into the room and check...

Suddenly feeling very tired, Keith rubbed his eyes and breathed out in a heavy sigh. He dropped his bag where he stood and went to the bedroom, thinking rather fondly of the idea of a nap. Shiro might come back late in the night, so frustrated and ready to go that he would immediately wake Keith up for another round and given how the last two nights with the man had gone, Keith wanted desperately to give it to him, as many times as his client wanted. 

The closet door was slightly ajar, giving him a tiny glimpse into the compact space as he passed. One of the suits was missing, with only an empty clothes hanger to indicate the absence of the item it had carried and Keith was struck with a sudden fear that perhaps the closet was empty and the card had been more of a formality than anything. What if Shiro had left, taking all of his things with him in anticipation of not really planning to come back tonight? What if that was why he hadn’t left a time on the card on the table?

Hesitantly, Keith looked around the apartment and placed one gloved hand on the left door, preparing to open the closet doors all the way. He wasn’t usually the kind of person to snoop around but he honestly didn’t know a single thing about Shiro and for some reason, this bothered him. He swung open the doors and was relieved to find four suits to the left of the empty hanger, and three sets of formal-looking shoes stacked along the wooden shelves inside. Three expensive looking suits hung to the left of the empty hanger, draping beautifully from the wooden bars, all sleek and dark and tailored, exactly the way the designers wanted them to be displayed. Each one was composed of varying shades of gray or black, with minimal patterning and a svelte design; the only accents of color visible on any of them were in the pocket cloths or ties. He pinched the fabric of one blazer sleeve between his fingers and whistled as he felt the silk of the lining beneath. He let go and turned to the far left, where there, on the farthest hanger, wrapped in a dry-clean plastic sheet, was the black suit Shiro had worn when he’d first picked Keith up at the diner. Just seeing it brought the memories surging back and he reached for it without thinking about what he was doing. His fingers crinkled around the plastic, a waft of freshly dry-cleaned fabric lifting from the bag like an artificial mountain breeze and he breathed in as he pulled himself closer to the item.

It smelled just like Shiro had that first night, save for the musk of the man’s natural scent, and he took the jacket off the hangar and wrapped it tight around his shoulders, inhaling the scent again as he pictured the way the man had looked as he’d given Keith the once-over. He checked his reflection in the mirror that was attached to the door and chuckled to himself when he saw how big the item was on his shoulders, draping over his body like some kind of a cape. It made him feel a little like a kid again, like that time he had been asked to try on his father’s clothes for an obscure school ceremony. However, this time the feel was very different and Keith was much, much older. He smiled when he saw that the bottom of the blazer ended just past his buttocks and turned a little to the right, straightening his shoulders and wondering if he should try on one of Shiro’s shirts next so he could maybe try to seduce him in it. But then his eyes caught on a spot of bright silver and his heart stopped in his chest.

There, sitting over his heart in the left breast pocket, was a pure silver pocket square peeking out of the lining of the jacket material. He ran his fingers over it, immediately thinking of Shiro’s eyes again as he brushed against the silky material.

“Shiro.”

He thought back to the card.

“Takashi Shirogane.”

Was that even his real name? Did Keith even care?

He clutched the blazer to his body, turned on his heel, and left the closet, heading straight to the bed and unzipping his pants as he approached the perfectly made bed. His dark-wash jeans hit the floor in a ragged clump and he ripped away the covers with a snap of his wrist, climbing into the freshly laundered linens and tucking himself in between the sheets on Shiro’s side of the bed. He buried his face into the pillows as he had last night, only this time, instead of looking for a way to muffle his own voice, he began looking for a trace of Shiro’s scent. When he found it, he threw his boxers and gloves over the side of the bed, clutched the jacket to his chest and grabbed himself in his own hand. He started pumping.

“Shiro.”

There was nobody in the suite. He could be as loud and obnoxious as he wanted but he pushed his face further into the pillows anyway and hunted once again for that elusive, familiar scent. His fingers tightened around his leaking shaft and he rubbed at the head tantalizingly, trying to mimic the motions Shiro had made with his thumb as he’d jerked Keith off the night before. When he succeeded, he gasped, his voice catching in his throat as he called out for Shiro again.

“Shiro!”

For some reason, there was a lump underneath the pillow and he stopped his ministrations long enough to reach under and pull out a tiny packet of lube. He quickly tore it open and dumped the contents onto his hand, resuming his motions in an almost frantic pattern, allowing the squelching sound to fill his ears and momentarily dominate his whole being. He thought feverishly about Shiro, thought about his molten silver eyes, thought about the way he’d whispered Keith’s name so lovingly in his ear.

“Shiro, _yes...!_ ”

His fingers fisted in the jacket. He squeezed his eyes shut and pumped harder, his fingers closing hot and tight around himself as he smeared lube and pre-cum all over his aching cock. Shiro’s hands had been bigger, much bigger and Keith growled with frustration as he tried and failed to get the contact he needed. No one had _ever_ touched him this good—so good that it made him come over and over again in the span of just two short nights, and Keith gasped and curled in on himself, desperately wanting Shiro to do these things to him again as he mindlessly slicked his hand up and down.

He needed fingers in his ass. He needed _Shiro’s_ fingers in his ass _now_ but Shiro wasn’t here and wasn’t going to be here for who knew how long and just the thought alone that it could be hours and hours before Keith could have that sweet, thick cock back in his body made him yearn for it in a way he didn’t think possible. He threw Shiro’s large black blazer over his body, keeping the silver pocket square right where he could see it and stuffed his own fingers into his ass, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand. He took the jacket lapel between his teeth as he pushed his way in and cursed, more frustrated than ever now that the angle and depth he craved was only just beyond his reach. In fact, this entire attempt at getting himself off was a pretty poor substitute for the treatment he’d gotten over the last two nights but as he focused on his movements and concentrated on the memory of Shiro’s hands and body, it was finally, _finally_ doing the trick.

“ _Takashi—!!_ ”

He exploded into his own hand in a wave of heat and shock, gasping from the exertion as if he’d just run a marathon, then groaned as the haze gradually cleared from his brain and he was finally able to think about what he’d just done. He took his hands off his body, shaking off the dregs of sleep that threatened to pull him back into bed and started looking for something to clean it all up with. Shiro would probably have some questions if he came back and found a half-naked Keith lying there all sticky and gross in his sheets, clutching Shiro’s large black blazer to his chest as he snoozed the night away. So he carefully lifted the suit jacket off himself and prayed Shiro wouldn’t find anything amiss. He was about to get up out of the bed when a tall shadow darkened the doorway and Keith froze on the spot.

“Keith.”

Shiro’s grin was knowing and slightly predatory.

“What are you doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Drop something below in the comments or come yell at me on Tumblr @patchwork-panda :3  
> I live for the interactions.  
> Bless you all and have a wonderful day!


	5. Shower Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Shower Sex
> 
> A piping hot shower, more sex, more plot and more pining/angst.  
> Poor Keith. Poor Shiro.  
> I'm sorry. OTL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, WOW the feedback from the last chapter!!  
> Thank you ALL SO MUCH!!! ///O A O///  
> Your kind messages and support means A FUCKING LOT to me, it really fuels the fire that allows me to keep writing!  
> You guys are seriously the best, thank you so so so much!!
> 
> I'm putting up this chapter a little early (next one is almost done, should be out soon too!) so apologies in advance for the angst/pining but story-wise I hope it all makes sense! Love you all ~

“Sh-Shiro...!”

Keith scrambled to push himself up into a sitting position and without thinking about what he was doing, wiped off his sticky hand on the inside of the linens.

“I can explain.” 

“No need,” Shiro replied, stalking towards him with all the grace of a solitary tiger. “I think I heard... enough.”

His gray eyes gleamed in the lamplight and Keith instinctively yanked Shiro’s jacket up over his chest, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t naked and had, in fact, been wearing his black T-shirt the entire time. His back hit the cold, solid wood of the headboard when he tried to back away and he winced, _actually winced_ , as Shiro’s robotic hand shot out and planted itself to the side of his face with a hard smack.

“You like my clothes, Keith?” Shiro asked kindly, his gunmetal gray eyes boring into Keith as if they could see clear into his soul. “You like trying on my clothes when I’m not here?”

His flesh-and-blood fingers smoothed down Keith’s forearm, leaving trails of fire in their wake and curled over Keith’s un-gloved hand like a heated iron vise.

“Not gonna answer?”

Keith’s cheeks burned and Shiro’s smile twisted into a smirk. With one sharp tug of his fingers, he ripped the black jacket out of Keith’s trembling hands and brought it up to eye-level for examination, his smile somehow never fading from view as Keith watched him scan the dark garment for any tell-tale stains. Before Keith could offer to pay for any possible damages incurred, Shiro casually tossed it aside and returned his attention to Keith.

“If you like playing dress-up so much,” he offered, stroking Keith’s cheek, “I can bring home more nice things for you to try on. Would you like that, Keith?”

He wet his lips and Keith involuntarily found his eyes being drawn to Shiro’s mouth, not a breath away from his own. Keith swallowed audibly and Shiro’s smirk grew.

“Take off your shirt.”

Keith obeyed at once, heart racing as Shiro stepped away from him and slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves. Shiro’s outerwear had long since been abandoned on a nearby chair and Keith watched as Shiro tucked the ends of his light purple shirt sleeves up around his elbows, revealing one thickly muscled forearm and one fully mechanical one, so sleek and natural in its design that it matched the real one perfectly. The shine of the strange metal alloy glowed neither silver nor white in the dim light, with panels in darker gray and joints of pitch black connecting the different parts of the prosthetic and it was only upon realizing that he had never seen Shiro completely shirtless before that Keith wondered just how far up that mechanical arm went. In fact, he was so distracted thinking of what Shiro must look like naked, that he completely failed to register the words coming out of Shiro’s mouth until he was being addressed directly in a question.

“Keith? Are you listening to me, Keith?”

“Uh-huh,” Keith mumbled distractedly, absentmindedly wondering what kind of dirty things Shiro was planning to do to him now that he had his sleeves rolled that far up. His lower half was already half alert and twitching with anticipation and he knew without really looking that there was a tent forming below his waist.

“Yeah, I heard you.”

But for some reason, Shiro didn’t move towards him and his lips were twitching as if he were barely holding back a laugh.

“Alright, then.”

And without another word of warning, he picked Keith up around the waist as if he weighed nothing more than a few pounds and tossed the bewildered Keith over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He turned on his heel and marched straight into the bathroom.

“Shiro, what are you doing?!” Keith squawked, slapping frantically at Shiro’s back as bright lights clicked on all around them. “Put me down!”

“Sure thing, Keith,” Shiro replied cheerfully, sliding open the glass door to the shower. “One sec...”

He set Keith down and pushed him against the cold marble walls and turned on the tap. Cold water hit his skin from overhead like an icy rain and Keith let out an undignified screech as it soaked into his hair and chilled his entire body to the bone. Sputtering and pushing his damp black bangs out of his eyes, he rounded on the man who had done this to him.

“Shiro, what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Keith!” Shiro laughed, his shoulders shaking from the force of it all. “But you should see your face! Oh my God.”

And as Shiro continued to laugh, a real, full belly laugh that had him doubled over and clutching his stomach as tears leaked out the corners of his eyes, Keith felt that unfamiliar pull from deep inside his heart again. Clearing his throat a little as he straightened up, Shiro wiped a tear from his eye and regarded Keith with a warmth in his smile that eased away the chill that had just been cast over the young man’s body.

“Did you think I was going to just do you on the spot, back there?” Shiro whispered, silver eyes dancing with amusement, “You dirty little pervert. All this time, I thought _I_ was the one with too many kinks to count but it looks like the _real_ sicko here is you.”

When Keith’s only reply was to sullenly cross his arms over his chest and glower at him from across the narrow glass chamber, Shiro chuckled and threw his hands up into the air.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I went too far. You had your fun and I had mine. Tell you what, why don’t I help you clean up a little, hmm? It’s the least I could do after playing a joke on you like that.”

He reached up and started undoing the buttons of his soft, lavender shirt, now damp in several large patches and partly see-through where it had been soaked through by ice-cold water. He watched as Keith’s shoulders stiffened, his sharp blue-gray eyes honing in at once to the places where the fabric clung to Shiro’s muscular body and his breath catching in his throat as he perceived the bits of skin peeking through. Shiro’s eyes sparkled.

“You wanna take a bath with me, baby?” he teased, popping another button through its hole as Keith watched. “I’ll let you see me naked.”

He yelled as Keith suddenly turned on the tap and aimed the shower head at him, dumping cold water all over Shiro’s fully-clothed body as he coughed and laughed, putting up his hands in a poorly executed defense in order to protect himself from the onslaught.

“I think I prefer showers,” Keith said, smirking in spite of himself.

“Okay, that’s it,” Shiro coughed, trying and failing to look angry as he pushed his way forward through the spray. “I’m going to take the dry-cleaning fees out of your pay for tonight.”

“Oh, so you _were_ planning to do something nasty to me when you got back,” Keith joked back, eyebrow raised as he aimed the spray at Shiro’s surprised face. “Who’s the pervert now, Shiro?”

“Still you,” Shiro quipped, his eyes glinting mischievously. With a shocking burst of speed, he smacked the shower head out of Keith’s stinging hand and pinned the younger man against the wall, grinning triumphantly as Keith struggled pathetically in his grasp. He leaned forward so that he could whisper softly into Keith’s ear.

“I win.”

His breath tickled in Keith’s ear and he squirmed uncomfortably in Shiro’s grasp, breath coming out in a sharp gasp as he felt Shiro slide a knee between his own bare legs and rub teasingly at his own rapidly hardening length. He opened his eyes to see that Shiro’s shirt had been rendered completely transparent by the abrupt deluge from before and his breathing quickened as he looked down and realized that Shiro had neglected to put on an undershirt this morning. Hard lines of muscle bristled and strained against thin purple cloth, Shiro’s massive pectorals heaving from exertion as rows of well-toned abdominals rolled down below. Twin dark shadows of the man’s nipples poked out on either side of his beautifully broad chest, rendered hard and stiff from the cold and it was only thanks to Shiro holding him back and pinning him against the wall that Keith didn’t immediately get down onto his knees to take one into his mouth and _suck_.

“My eyes are up here, _pervert_.”

Shiro’s whisper startled him out of his trance and he jerked up, face beet-red as Shiro studied him with increasing interest, a wolfish grin playing about the corners of his lips.

“You want this?”

He pressed his knee more forcefully against Keith’s erection and his grin widened as Keith let out a loud moan that echoed around their small glass chamber.

“Wow,” Shiro sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his grip around Keith’s wrists, as Keith continued to mewl and tremble in his grasp. “Listen to that. I actually carried you in here so we could clean you off a little, maybe wash some of those dirty thoughts clean out of your skull, but surprise surprise...”

He opened his dark, silvery eyes and fixed Keith with a look that would be seared into his memories for all the years to come.

“Looks like no amount of scrubbing is going to get your filthy little mind clean.”

At this point, he loosened his grip and allowed Keith to break free, murmuring similar half-hearted sentiments and entertaining a smile as Keith’s greedy hands tore at the remaining buttons on his shirt, peeling it off of his soaking-wet body like a pale, purple candy wrapper and casting it aside in a soggy lump. He helped Keith undo his belt and trousers, tugging open the door just a crack so they could kick it all outside without having to keep their hands off each other.

“Yeah, we might as well do it in here,” Shiro mused aloud, eyebrows rising up into his damp, white hair as Keith ran his hands up and down Shiro’s well-muscled chest. “I could honestly use a nice hot shower after everything that’s happened today and now we don’t have to worry about falling asleep and forgetting to clean ourselves up after.” 

And with that, he grasped Keith’s ass in two large, strong hands and lifted him bodily off the ground so that he could press him against one of the marble-tiled walls. Obligingly, Keith brought his long, pale legs up towards his body and wrapped them securely around Shiro’s waist, shivering a little as he leaned his head back against the cold tiles and pulling Shiro’s warm body closer to his own.

“Cold?” Shiro asked and Keith nodded. “Let me fix that.”

He reached out with one long, metallic arm, Keith’s eyes catching on the junction between flesh and prosthetic around the region of Shiro’s upper bicep as he grasped the shiny metal tap. The skin itself around the join appeared gnarled and scarred, especially in the area where it was fused to the alloy. However, the transition between human and cyborg was softened by the swirling black lines of an intricately detailed tattoo, florals and foreign characters disguising the tops of the panels in a way that Keith found absolutely breath-taking.

A wave of hot, steaming water hit his horribly clammy skin, easing away the tension from his muscles and smoothing at the goose flesh until it was shiny and warm and a breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth washed over his whole body. He made a noise of satisfaction and pulled Shiro in closer as the taller man started mouthing his way up Keith’s chest and neck.

“Keith...”

“Hm?”

He had been distractedly kneading at Shiro’s shoulders, feeling the bunching of his muscles underneath his touch when he heard a tinny pop. There was a distinct waft of vanilla and spice and he looked down to see a white glob of conditioner in Shiro’s callused palm. He watched, mesmerized as rivulets of hot water streamed down the curves of Shiro’s faintly scarred chest and ribs, collecting in the junction between their warm, wet bodies and inhaled sharply as Shiro took the conditioner and smeared it all over Keith’s cock. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh _fuck, yes_.”

His voice bounced off the walls, raucous and wanton and echoing loudly in the steam-filled room as Shiro tended to his needs, stroking and squeezing and teasing him until he could barely breathe without calling Shiro’s name. Just as Keith was about to reach his limit, Shiro stopped and took his now-slippery fingers away from Keith’s body. He paused just long enough for Keith to open his eyes and watch as Shiro quietly shoved them deep into his ass.

“ _AH--!_ ”

His voice cracked as Shiro immediately hit his prostate. He could feel Shiro moving his fingers in deliberate, circular motions, coating Keith’s insides with a healthy amount of lubrication and making him moan and quiver every time those fingers passed over his gland again. He leaned back against the tiles, the feeling of the cold marble dulling time and time again as Shiro nipped and sucked at his chest and neck, shivering every single time he felt the flick of a tongue against his skin. He barely felt Shiro taking his fingers out through everything else that was happening to his body and only cried out Shiro’s name in an almost wail when the man abruptly replaced those fingers with his cock. 

As he took Keith roughly against the slick, tiled walls of the shower, the room quickly filled with the slap of skin against skin and sounds coming out of their shameless mouths. At some point, Keith became aware of the fact that there was no longer any water running in the shower (Shiro must have turned the water off) but it didn’t matter; he was drowning—drowning in Shiro and he didn’t _want_ to come back up for air.

Those dark-pink lips were so close, so inviting and they were calling out his name, literally calling out for Keith and his body and Keith bit his lip because— _because—_

Fuck it—He couldn’t take it any more.

He slammed his mouth into Shiro’s with a recklessness that surprised even him and he took advantage of Shiro’s momentary shock to slide his tongue in between the man’s lightly parted lips. He licked at Shiro’s mouth until it was all the way open, nibbled on his lower lip and sucked on his tongue—until that beautiful man abruptly pushed him away.

Shiro’s surprised laugh was a low rumble against his lips.

“I thought you didn’t kiss?”

“I changed my mind,” Keith gasped, hating the way he sounded—like he was begging—and yes, at this point, he _was_ begging because God, what he wouldn’t do to have those lips back upon his again. “Just... shut up and kiss me again.”

And he went in for another.

But Shiro’s eyes were hard and just a little bit sad and he placed a single metallic finger upon Keith’s shining pink lips and stopped him with a single push.

“Hey... let’s just keep our relationship a professional one, okay?” Shiro whispered kindly, his smile wistful and a little apologetic. “For both our sakes.”

“Professional? _Professional?!_ ” Keith exclaimed, panting in his efforts to try to get back to Shiro’s mouth and snarling a little when he was pushed back against the wall. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me on Day One! Why are you saying this _now_?”

And to emphasize his point, he ground his ass harder against Shiro’s front, sucking his client’s shaft further into his body and prompting the older man to let out a surprised grunt.

“I’m saying this to protect you,” Shiro replied stubbornly, thrusting so fiercely into Keith that it made the younger man cry out unexpectedly when it hit him right where he needed it. Taking advantage of Keith’s distraction, Shiro put both hands on his shoulders and fucked the disoriented Keith into the tiles in a way that felt so good it almost hurt.

“Protect me?” Keith panted, stubbornly blinking the stars out of his eyes so he could continue to interrogate Shiro. “What are you protecting me _from_?”

Shiro didn’t answer. Instead, he started moving even faster, mercilessly thrusting in and out of Keith and forcing cry after strangled cry out of his wracked body until he was pushed all the way to the edge and beyond. Shiro followed shortly after with an echoing shout and it was only when he was sure that Keith was too dazed and exhausted to ask any more questions that he gently let his partner down off the wall, shuddering when the younger man unwrapped his long legs from around Shiro’s torso and extricated himself from the man’s body. They sat down together in a heap, legs shaking from the intensity of their climaxes and Shiro’s head resting upon Keith’s shoulders as they leaned back against the wall.

Somehow, the room felt colder than it had before they turned on the tap.

“Bath?” Shiro inquired tiredly and Keith nodded.

* * *

He didn’t know what prompted him to get into the bath with Shiro after the way things went in the shower, but when the man stretched out his mechanical hand and offered him a soft, gentle smile, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners when he looked at Keith, he took the hand without thinking and stepped in. His breath came out in a long, drawn-out sigh as the hot water washed over his limbs and rose up over his chest and he leaned his head back against the curved porcelain walls of the tub. Keith had stretched out his limbs, thankful that the penthouse had such a large, luxurious-looking bath, the frown having just been eased off his face when Shiro spoke. 

“Hey, Keith?”

He opened his eyes, sullenly staring at the ceiling for a brief second before turning his piercing indigo gaze on Shiro. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. Shiro’s smile suddenly looked awkward and unsteady.

“Uh. Want me to wash your hair?”

He’d already grabbed the bottle and given it a squeeze by the time he was able to remember how similar it was to what he had done to Keith earlier and it was with a noticeable stiffening of his facial expression that he watched the glop of banana yellow gel fall into the middle of his palm. Keith tried to look less than amused but failed as he felt his lip twitching and not a second later, he was laughing at Shiro as the man apologized profusely for his poorly thought out offer.

So he crawled forward on his hands and knees, fragrant water sloshing around him as he moved, and turned to sit within reaching distance of Shiro’s hands, careful not to sit too close to the man’s body _or_ shrink too far away. He allowed himself a small noise of satisfaction as those strong fingers once again curled against his scalp and proceeded to lather and rub a generous amount of shampoo into his long, dark hair.

It was comforting. No one had washed his hair for him since he was a child and he sighed contentedly, leaning back a fraction of an inch before remembering what he was trying to avoid and sitting up a little straighter to compensate for his posture. If Shiro noticed, he didn’t say a word, and continued to silently massage the back of Keith’s head. 

They sat like this for a minute or two, the peaceful atmosphere growing more and more strained the longer the period of quiet stretched on. When the silence grew too thick to ignore any longer, Shiro sighed.

“So, I think we crossed a line back there,” he said, his movements slowing as he washed the shampoo out of Keith’s hair. He reached for the conditioner again. “And I think it was my fault. You’re right. I’m the one who tried to kiss you that first night and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Keith.”

The water was still warm but Keith couldn’t get rid of the feeling that his body had cooled just a couple degrees as Shiro’s regretful words rang in his ears. He sat up and tried to concentrate on the feel of Shiro’s fingers slicking through his conditioner-laced wet hair.

“I said I wanted to keep the relationship professional because... I wanted to keep things straightforward, I suppose,” Shiro continued. “I pay you for your services, we both get some fun out of it, and we part at the end of the day, no harm, no foul.”

And this time, when Shiro looked at him, Keith thought he caught a glimpse of something like a hint of _pain_ in the man’s eyes. Something twisted in his gut.

“We don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” Shiro said quietly, digging his fingers into the mess of slippery suds and thick dark hair at the crown of Keith’s head when Keith looked away again. His hands suddenly stilled.

“ _You_ don’t have to keep doing this.”

His hands dropped into the pale green water and Keith turned around at the sound of the splash to look Shiro in the face. In the stark light of the bathroom, the bags under Shiro’s eyes looked more pronounced than ever and the corners of his mouth had turned downwards in an uncharacteristically somber expression. But was it Keith’s imagination or was there a trace of longing in those dappled silver eyes? Like Shiro didn’t actually want Keith to go? A vision of Shiro sitting alone in this enormous tub, green water rising up over his neck, his tired sigh echoing around this large empty chamber, suddenly rose to the forefront of Keith’s mind and he came forward with a splash, wanting more than anything to take that lonely look off of Shiro’s face.

“No, I want to keep doing this,” Keith insisted. “I _want_ to spend the next two weeks with you. Can’t you let me finish the job?”

“Only if you’re sure you’re not getting too attached,” Shiro stated firmly, his mouth setting into a hard line. “Can you do that, Keith?”

“Of course,” Keith snorted, sounding more sure than he felt. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m Keith Kogane. If you ever talk to my friend Romelle, she’ll tell you I broke more hearts than I did noses in high school and I broke a _lot_ of noses.”

When Shiro saw that Keith was serious, he rolled his head back and let out a ringing laugh, a laugh that echoed off the walls and filled Keith to the brim with something warm and bubbly and happy and then he was laughing too, leaning back against Shiro’s broad chest with the color rising in his cheeks from the heat of the tub. He pulled away slightly when Shiro’s hands came to a rest on his shoulders and they finished their bath with the kind of light-hearted small talk that he was more used to engaging in with his classmates than his clients.

Before he fell asleep that night, Shiro turned to him, another warm smile thrown over his beautifully sculpted shoulder and whispered, “Thanks, Keith. I’m glad we got a chance to talk about this.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled, sinking guiltily into the sheets. He looked away as Shiro’s breathing evened out and slowed to a steady rhythm.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrrrrrrrrrghhh sorry about the angst! TT A TT  
> Did I mention that the amount of control I have over the characters/story is ridiculously small?!  
> They just *want* to pine...  
> But don't worry, they'll get over it eventually!!  
> Hope you guys liked this chapter... waaahhh TT A TT  
> Lemme know what you think either here or on Tumblr if u feel up for a chat.


	6. Sex Toys (Vibrator)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26. Toys (Vibrator)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, guys! It's up early!  
> I think I'm gonna try to stick to a regular upload schedule from now on (Thursdays and Sundays in early evening?? I'll take suggestions cuz I don't know when people are online honestly) so hopefully the posts are less sporadic from here on out.
> 
> I got some really amazing feedback from the last chapter and I just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who messaged me and offered me kind words and encouragement. This fic really wouldn't be possible without all of you and I really really want to show you how much I appreciate the love and support I've been getting. 
> 
> So! here's the next installment. It's a little more porn than plot but I hope the porn is still very satisfactory. I had to do a lot of Googling to figure out how things work but hopefully it was worth it in the end...

A subtle knock upon the door and Allura looked up from the screen, rubbing her tired eyes to keep the sleep at bay as she turned her attention to the man in the doorway. 

“Lance, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, a soft smile gracing her features as the lanky photographer strolled in, his green and black khaki corduroy slung over his shoulder and a tall paper cup in one hand. Her eyes widened as he set the cup down on a free space at her polished black desk and her nose instantly prickled at the familiar scent.

“Is that for me?”

“Extra creamy vanilla latte,” Lance stated, his grin turning lopsided as he watched her take it in her slender fingers and inhale deeply, her long eyelashes fluttering closed and her cheeks warming slightly when she took a grateful sip. “Just the way you like it, right?”

“You remembered,” she murmured, gaze settling softly upon the white plastic cap. “This is... very sweet of you Lance, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

At this, Lance’s smile faltered. He glanced pensively around the room.

“Well... I think you needed it.”

It had been a few months since Lance had personally paid a visit to the office belonging to the Chief of Police, but the transformation had been startling. Back then, the room had been a small, but tidy sort of space, having belong to Allura’s father, Chief Alfor, before he had been rendered comatose by one of Zarkon’s bullets. The only decorations Lance remembered there being were a large pot of peace lilies in the far corner and a single framed photograph of a much younger Allura in her mother’s arms sitting upon the desk. Since the position had been transferred to Allura, the photograph and the potted plant had remained but as the weeks passed, they became steadily less noticeable thanks to the increased number of photographs and articles displayed upon the walls. Today, Lance couldn’t help the startling realization that the space was now looking almost exactly a conspiracy theorist’s bunker, only better lit and _much_ better organized.

He tapped a single minimized photograph upon the far wall, the one that housed an enormous eight-foot screen and frowned as an image popped up of a weedy-looking man’s unsmiling face, complete with a set of bullet points below his name and a corresponding red dot pulsing on the map to show his last-known location. Lance frowned as he recognized the apartment building as the one he, Pidge and Hunk had been called to just earlier that week.

“Chief, are you okay?” he asked hesitantly, turning towards the woman at the desk. “Pidge says you’ve been leaving later and later each night and it’s almost eight in the evening. How much longer are you planning to be here?”

“Oh, not long,” Allura muttered dismissively, already perusing new reports on her computer screen. “I just want to see if I can connect the dots on these last two pieces of information. Don’t worry Lance, I’ll be out before dawn.”

“You promise?”

In the harsh fluorescent light, her dark, velvety skin looked pale and ashy and even the royal blue of her usually vibrant irises had dulled to a ghostly cornflower. Lance’s hand twitched towards hers as she breathed out in a heavy sigh.

“Yes, yes. I swear it.”

“Good. Cuz Pidge says someone on her maintenance crew caught you sleeping at your desk at midnight last week while they were in here installing software patches.”

At Lance’s words, she stiffened noticeably in her chair, her eyes narrowing and her plush lips twisting into an almost pout that sent the blood rushing straight to Lance’s cheeks as she mumbled something about being better to lock the door next time she worked late. Clearing her throat, she fixed Lance with a stern look and declared in no uncertain terms that he was not to worry about her and that she promised to be out before the maintenance crew came in again tonight. But Lance wasn’t convinced.

“I want to believe you, Chief. I do. But this case is really eating at you. I—I mean, the whole department—we can all tell you’ve been working tirelessly to catch the guys responsible. It won’t kill you to take a short break--”

He’d said the wrong thing and he knew it the instant Allura’s eyes sharpened.

“It won’t kill me,” she seethed ominously, “But too many lives have been lost already and who knows how many more if we don’t arrest the people behind these—these _vicious_ murders. We aren’t talking simple money laundering or drug pushing, Lance. There is an all out turf war happening right under our noses in _our_ city and if we don’t do something about it, who knows how much farther this could spread! Think about--”

Her voice cracked and it was all Lance could do to not gather her up in his arms and try to kiss the pain away.

“Think about how many more people could end up like my father if this madness isn’t stopped.”

Lance’s resolve broke.

“Oh, Allura...”

His hand had just settled down upon hers when someone cleared their throat from the doorway and adjusted their glasses.

“Uh. What are you two doing?” Pidge asked, looking slightly cross.

Lance let go at once and he could feel Allura moving just a fraction of an inch away.

“Oh, Pidge.”

Was that a tremor in her voice? 

“Lance was just stopping by to make sure I don’t work myself into an early grave,” Allura laughed, rubbing at her eyes once again and turning her attention back to the screen. She tapped distractedly at a couple buttons on her keyboard. “You should go too, so that you can catch the last train before...”

Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“Before...?”

But Allura didn’t answer. Instead, her mouth dropped open just a fraction of an inch and she began typing rapidly into her computer, completely ignoring the two investigators in the room until she had completed her task. With one final tap of her keyboard, she pushed back her chair and gaped at her screen like she’d just been cuffed over the head. She turned to Pidge and Lance.

“Get Hunk. And Coran. Come back in here and close the door when you have.”

When the two exchanged a glance and didn’t move, she stood and snapped, “Now!”  
Almost colliding with each other on the way out the door, Lance and Pidge scrambled to obey. Not two minutes later, Pidge was pushing a very nervous and stammering Hunk through the door while Lance could be seen around the corner wailing that Coran had already left for the night and was nowhere to be found. Rolling her eyes and muttering something insulting under her breath, Pidge grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him into the office after her, shutting the door and drawing the blinds so that no one could see or hear what was going on inside the office. Nodding gratefully, Allura beckoned them forward. 

“What I am about to show the three of you does _not_ leave the room, understood?”

Not knowing what else to do, the three could only nod.

Taking a deep breath, Allura took the screen protector off her monitor and spun it around to face them. 

Pidge was the first to react, her eyes widening almost comically behind her thick lenses.

“Is that a hand?!”

“What?” Lance squawked, glancing from her to the screen and back. “Where?”

“There!”

She jabbed a finger at the screen and raced forward, tapping a few things here and there on the keyboard Allura shoved at her until a bright red outline of what was unmistakably a large hand with fingers closed could be seen in the center of the monitor.

“What are we looking at?” Lance whispered in awe.

“This is the digital model Pidge and Hunk helped me put together from your photos of the last crime scene,” Allura explained. “Remember that odd little crater in the wall in Slav’s apartment? Hunk did a marvelous job of searching for the bullet while leaving the impact pattern completely intact and thanks to your photos and Pidge’s genius with crafting digital models, we have _this_.”  
Pidge clicked another button and the red pattern bloomed across the crater like a strange flower. Here or there, Lance could make out the faintest outlines of fingers, always stuck together as if glued that way, in odd corners of the crater.

“Oh my God,” Hunk breathed. “That’s why there was no bullet. Someone literally picked it out of the wall and then smashed it up afterwards.”

“But what kind of hand could do something like that? Who in the hell could be that strong?” Lance mused aloud.

“It’s a prosthetic,” Pidge declared. “It has to be. No fingerprints? Strong enough to smash drywall?”

“Or maybe he’s a ninja master!” Lance exclaimed, suddenly looking gleeful. “And he can karate chop his way through the door!”

He blanched, suddenly picturing the unknown assassin kicking in the front door to the police office and killing people with a well-aimed karate chop to the neck.

“No, Lance,” Allura stated evenly as she eyed the look on his face. “I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of advanced robotic.”

“So one of the guys we’re looking for has a robotic arm?”

“But without any other identifying information, we won’t even know what kind of robotic arm it is nor can we just go about rounding up everyone in the city who might have one.” She rubbed her temples. 

“There are a _lot_ of people who have bionic parts in this day and age and just gathering amputees up like this without any further information about why could land us in a lot of hot water with the legal system. Not to mention if we make this information public, the assassin could very well go and change up their techniques or even their arm and we won’t have another clue as to who it might be once again.”

“Well, it’s the right arm, judging by the finger lengths,” Pidge mumbled, still typing rapidly into the computer, “And probably a male, given the ratio of ring finger to index. Probably a tall one too, given hand size.”

“So that’s it?” Lance scoffed, arms in the air. “We just let this breakthrough go without a single word to the rest of the department?”

“Yes, Lance,” Allura exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “Which is why I asked you all to close the door. You three have helped me uncover this. You three are the best in my department. What I want is for the three of you to be on your toes. If you find anything along a similar vein that might help us identify the people responsible, I want you to bring it straight to me. It’s a rare lead but it just might lead us to the culprit. Do you understand?”

As one, Pidge, Hunk and Lance gave her a salute.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Allura grinned.

“Good. Now let’s all get out of here before maintenance decides to finally lock someone in.”

* * *

“So, how did you get the arm?” Keith asked, tracing the outline of Shiro’s tattoo where it curled around his living bicep. 

He watched the muscle flex beneath his touch and sucked in a shaky breath as it bunched up and grew bulky to support Shiro’s weight. Oh, the _things_ he’d allowed those arms, those hands to do to him earlier that night... He swallowed audibly, wondering what it would feel like to have those arms around him again, holding him close when they weren’t both naked and thoroughly intertwined in the hotel sheets, so dazed in their respective afterglow that they forgot themselves and allowed each other to draw close...

Shiro chuckled, a quiet, comforting sound that reminded Keith of the wind rustling softly through the trees. He shivered, Shiro’s warm breath ghosting through his hair, and fought the urge to burrow further into the warmth offered by Shiro’s scarred skin and sturdy chest, somehow managing to keep himself a good distance away from the man while remaining close enough at hand that Shiro didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

“Getting right to it, aren’t we?” he asked, shifting a little onto his side so that he could look at Keith while running a prosthetic finger over the outline of the man’s slim waist. “Well... it’s a really long and uninteresting story that I wouldn’t want to bore you with right now. Maybe another time. Why don’t you pick something else?”

“Seriously?” Keith huffed. “You’re the one who said I was allowed to ask you a question about yourself.”

He pushed Shiro away and rolled onto his side, facing the blank wall with the blackout curtains with his lips twisted into a pout. 

“Hey, don’t be like that, kitten. Come here.”

He allowed Shiro to rest his head upon his shoulder but he didn’t budge, nor acknowledge the man’s presence when he slowly wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders, even if their closeness was something Keith had been craving not two seconds earlier. When he realized Keith was genuinely irritated at the snub, Shiro sighed.

“Okay then, let me ask you this... How do _you_ think I got it?”

Keith thought for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together as he mentally sorted through the possibilities.

“Car accident,” he settled on at last, to which Shiro laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that for some reason, made Keith’s hair stand on end. 

“What, was that a bad guess?” he asked, curious enough to turn around and face the man. 

But the look on Shiro’s face was darker than he could’ve imagined and his smile was something cold and mirthless that chilled Keith to the bone. And in an instant, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm, pleasant demeanor. But it was enough the sweat that had not yet dried fully on Keith’s forehead remained cold on his skin. He carefully pulled away.

“No, it was a logical one,” Shiro mused, propping his head up on one arm and scratching his own chin with the tip of his bionic finger. “But incorrect. You wanna try again? I’ll give you a reward if you get it right.”

“No, that’s okay,” Keith replied quickly.

“But you _are_ curious about my arm?” Shiro pressed.

“Not particularly,” Keith admitted. “It’s just... I’ve never seen a model quite like yours before.”

And he ran his fingers over the edges of Shiro’s skin, trailing his fingers from warm, pliable flesh onto glossy metallic skin.

“It’s so smooth and... elegant.” He wondered if Shiro could hear the admiration in his voice. “I’ve had classmates and other clients with bionic parts but none that really _respond_ the way yours does.”

_And none that feel quite as good on or in Keith’s body._

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face, because Shiro’s grin was suddenly shrewd, in a way that Keith had grown to associate with hands roaming hotly over his body and nights spent doing unspeakable things in the dark.

“Hmm... I think I get it. You like how it feels when I touch you with this hand. Right, Keith?” Shiro asked, his prosthetic fingers already crawling down Keith’s spine, triggering a reflex Keith didn’t know he had and making him arch almost painfully against Shiro’s body.

“Is that how it looks?” he asked, his question ending in a hiss as Shiro’s strong fingers grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. When his lower half responded exactly the way Keith knew it would, Shiro’s smirk grew.

“I think you know exactly how it looks.”

Keith was half-considering attempting to kiss that arrogant man’s mouth again, maybe bite him just to shut him up, when Shiro suddenly got up out of bed and went to his suitcase. Meeting Keith’s confused look with a secretive one of his own, Shiro clicked open the latch and took something out, something small enough for him to hide in one large hand, which he kept hidden behind his back as he walked back towards the bed. Keith sat up at once, black hair messy and dark-blue eyes narrowed and regarded him with a suspicious scowl.

“Shiro... What’s behind your back?”

“Another present,” Shiro replied, his tone humble but his silver eyes gleaming. “Think of it as thanks for blowing off all your other clients in favor of spending time with me.”

Keith made a noise that sounded distinctly like a scoff and he mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “it wasn’t exactly a difficult decision,” to which Shiro grinned.

“You didn’t come earlier, did you?” he mused, climbing over Keith’s body as his partner willingly laid down on his back for him. He stroked Keith’s cheek.

“Would you like to?”

“Does this have anything to do with the thing in your hand?” Keith asked, trying and failing to see what Shiro was keeping hidden from him. “Depends on what it is... and how good you think it’ll make me feel.”

“The place I bought it from gave it rave reviews,” Shiro answered, “Though I haven’t tried it myself, I think I know your body well enough to know that you’ll like it.”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You seem to like it when I shove my metal fingers in your ass, so how about we try out something that was actually designed for that?”

He lifted up his hand and let fall a pair of tiny silver objects on a long chain, one egg-shaped and the other like a bullet on a stretchy ring of fabric.

“You know what this is, Keith?”

He let Keith take it in his hands and examine it, run his fingers over the smooth plastic surfaces. Keith’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You... want to put these in my ass?”

He nearly dropped the objects in surprise as Shiro pushed a button in his hand and the devices suddenly buzzed to life. Shiro clicked again and the buzzing stopped immediately.

“Only one of them,” Shiro said.

He tapped the tip of Keith’s currently flaccid shaft.

“The other goes here. That little strap is so you can wear it where you like.” His eyes gleamed. “What do you think, Keith? Want me to make you feel good?”

Keith smirked.

“Do I get to hold the remote?”

“Nope,” Shiro said cheerfully. He leaned in and smoothed the hair away from Keith’s forehead. “But you’ve been so good to me, baby. I want to please _you_ this time. Let me watch that pretty face of yours when you cum. And don’t worry...”

He took the toys out of Keith’s hand and started smearing them with lube.

“I’ll _make sure_ you enjoy every second.”

Keith inhaled sharply as he felt the tip of the egg pushing up against his entrance. The toy was smooth and hard and slightly cold because the lube wasn’t fully warmed up and he fixed Shiro with a half-irritated, half-questioning look, to which the man chuckled and offered a weak apology. When Keith rolled his eyes and lay back against the sheets once more, Shiro gave the little egg a stronger push and Keith cursed as he felt himself distend and the whole thing go in with a tiny pop.

He was still thankfully a little loose from earlier, and it only took a little coaxing and a couple of Shiro’s long fingers slowly pushing to start seating the tiny egg further and further up. A pleasant shiver traveled up Keith’s spine as he felt the thing going deeper and deeper in and once again he was reminded of Shiro’s exquisite taste in the more tangible pleasures in life. The toy’s sleek, practical design allowed Keith to be stretched just enough to accommodate the larger end of the bulb and the way Shiro was pushing it in gave him just enough time to adjust but not quite enough that he would feel complacent with its most recent location. The plastic was cool and smooth inside his body, almost as good as Shiro’s cock but not quite as thick and as he felt it gradually warm up from his own internal body heat, Keith felt it slide to a stop against his prostate. He squeezed Shiro’s flesh-and-blood arm to indicate for the man to stop.

No sooner had he done so than he heard the press of a button and he let out a sharp, surprised yelp as he felt the little object come to life inside his ass. The buzzing had been almost pleasantly ticklish against his skin of his palms but in his ass—against his weakest, most sensitive parts—he’d never felt anything like this before, not in his entire life and it took only moments to reduce him to a mewling, trembling mess against Shiro’s body.

“Wow,” he heard Shiro chuckle into his hair as he quickly clicked the device off, Keith panting and sweating against his chest. “That was just the lowest setting. You want me to stop?”

“No...” Keith heard himself breathe, his knees still shaking from the unexpected stimulation. “Keep going. You said you were gonna make me cum. Well, I didn’t yet.”

So Shiro pressed the button yet again and a strangled cry ripped its way out of Keith’s throat, waves and waves of pleasure radiating throughout his twitching body as Shiro stroked his hair and whispered Keith’s name into his ear. His toes were curling, his mouth falling open, his very blood singing in his veins. Every time he squeezed, the sensations would intensify and every time he loosened up, he found himself going back and wanting even more. 

He thought he heard himself calling out Shiro’s name as the man gathered him up in his big strong arms, crushing Keith against his own burning, sweating body while he randomly played with the button on the remote, keeping it just out of sight so that Keith would have no idea when the vibrations would stop or start. This continued for some time until Keith was almost crying from the never-ending stimulation, his breath coming in labored gasps as Shiro played him like a fiddle, driving him closer and closer to orgasm but never allowing the vibration to go on long enough to push him all the way over the edge.

“I should send you home with this thing,” Shiro murmured between nips and sucks on Keith’s ear. He turned the device off so that Keith could hear every word out of his mouth. “Turn it on when you least expect it. Make you drop your books in the library, make you moan when you’re trying to answer a question in class--”

“You—you can do that?” Keith gasped, twisting violently against Shiro’s chest as he felt the egg coming back to life, actual tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as the vibrations pulsed all the way down to his very core. “Wh-what kind of device--”

His half-formed question ended in another involuntary cry as his body was rocked by something he had completely forgotten about. Shiro had slipped that tiny little strap around Keith’s cock so that when he pushed the button again, it felt like his entire lower body was melting away. He only realized he was shouting for Shiro again when the man suddenly bit into his neck and Keith felt the man’s cock swell hard and thick against his own sweat-covered abdomen.

“ _God_ , Keith, the way you call my name...!”

His bites grew more vicious and Keith moaned pathetically in his grasp, writhing and panting as Shiro rutted against his hip, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the man’s massive, heaving chest as he looked for something to hang on to. His fingernails broke into the skin and he heard Shiro suck in a hiss of pain but he didn’t stop moving, nor did he give Keith even a second to breathe. No, both parts of the little toy remained on and were left purposefully on a setting that steadily filled Keith’s brain up with the kind of fog that only a good hard release could clear.

And through his haze of vibrator-induced pleasure, Keith thought he saw Shiro bite into his own lower lip. His beautiful gray eyes grew dull and clouded over as they roamed over Keith’s face, settling upon his open mouth and the thin, shining trail of saliva leaking out over the corner of the Keith’s lip. For a brief second, he seemed to still, his silver eyes focused attentively upon Keith’s mouth and he bent forward, his white hair tickling Keith’s forehead as he leaned over the young man. He smoothed his finger over Keith’s lip, wiping away the trickle of saliva and softly caressing Keith’s flushed cheek.

“Sh-Shiro...?”

It was as if Keith’s voice had snapped him out of a trance. At once, Shiro’s grip tightened around Keith’s jaw and he forced Keith’s face away so he could bite down on the young man’s long, slender neck, so hard that Keith wondered if Shiro had actually drawn blood.

But that did it and Keith was suddenly convulsing and swearing like he’d never sworn before, all kinds of filth spewing out of his mouth as white-hot liquid exploded out of his cock and covered both their stomachs and chests with a thick, sticky stream. Keith was given barely two seconds to catch his breath before the ring was yanked off his cock and he was shoved roughly onto his stomach, Shiro’s fingers kneading heatedly at his ass.

“I’m taking this out,” Shiro panted, yanking at the little chain that was still buried deep inside Keith’s body, “and then—then, I’m taking you again.”

“You double my rate for tonight and I’ll let you do whatever you want,” Keith laughed breathlessly, shuddering a little as the toy came out at last.

Shiro’s grin looked positively feral in the dull yellow light.

“That’s a good kitten,” he whispered and pushed Keith’s face back into the pillows.

It was all he could do to muffle his screams as Shiro spent the next few minutes fucking him into the mattress, forcing him to cum again and again and again...

* * *

“Another long night at your part-time job?” Romelle asked shrewdly as Keith let out another wide yawn. 

He shot her a tired look over the rim of his coffee cup and took a hearty gulp, trying to make it seem like the rising flush in his cheeks had been induced by his hot drink and not by the memory of the previous night. The tiny black box tied with a sleek silver ribbon rattled merrily in his backpack as they walked down the hill to class and he tried not to think too hard about what could happen if any of the small holes at the bottom of the bag were to suddenly coalesce and open up at long last...

“It pays the bills,” he mumbled, scratching discreetly at a large band-aid on his neck. 

He thanked whichever god was responsible for the fact that Romelle had forgone her contacts for her glasses today and her peripheral vision was just poor enough that she didn’t notice the multiple band-aids adorning Keith’s neck.

“I’ll bet it does...”

There was a beat of silence as Romelle sighed wistfully and stared off into the distance, mumbling something in an undertone about the hundreds she’d seen in Keith’s wallet several days ago and rubbing her stomach as it growled like an angry cat beneath her sweater. Then, as if suddenly struck by an ingenious idea, she abruptly stopped, looked around for eavesdroppers and quickly turned to Keith. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket.

“Seriously, Keith? What do you do and how do I get into it?”

Keith spat out his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all!!
> 
> Need to scream about something? Offer some sort of feedback? Hit me up in the comments or message @patchwork-panda on tumblr!  
> Or if I know you from Discord, I'm scrap_tin_Panda now that I've joined the tinfoil hat crowd lmao.
> 
> See you next Chapter!


	7. Daddy Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6. "Daddy" Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming... Shiro has a serious Daddy kink. ;)
> 
> This was horrifically difficult to edit. The next few chaps (already working on it!!) are going to have some very interesting content and I had to find a way to stitch the pieces together. Thanks for your patience and all the wonderful love and support, you guys!! *hugs for you all!!*  
> The comments give me so much life you have no idea--!

“So she asked what you did for your night job?” Shiro laughed, lazily tracing small circles about Keith’s bare hip bone as they lay spooning in the sheets, the remains of a room service meal lying scattered on a silvery tray on the table nearby. 

“What did you tell her, baby?”

It was a nickname that occasionally slipped out from between Shiro’s lips but they both ignored, even though it never failed to make Keith’s heart flutter in his chest whenever he did hear it.

It had been almost two full days since their last evening together, the longest time they’d been apart since starting this whole arrangement. At first Keith had chalked it up to Shiro just being tired from work or maybe a little worn out after their last night together (Keith was certainly a little sore) but as the hours dragged on without a single text in sight, he started to wonder if maybe Shiro was starting to grow tired of _him_. Luckily, before his thoughts could spiral, his phone went off in the middle of class and he unlocked the screen to find a single vague text lighting up his home screen, the only content a specified time in the early evening, same day.

He dodged Romelle’s offer to study together in the library after class and took the first ride-share off of campus that he could get, arriving at Shiro’s penthouse suite before the sun had even set and giving the man the welcome he sorely deserved. 

But Shiro seemed restless, distracted by something so distant that it took longer than usual for him to come and unlike during his previous encounter with Keith, he paid almost no attention to his partner’s physical needs. However, Keith let the man be, allowing Shiro to play with his body as they made small talk by the light of the dimmed bedroom lamps, already thinking about how he would try to get himself off later if he didn’t get what he wanted tonight. His client looked like he could use the rest. Maybe he’d give that vibe Shiro’d gifted him another try.

“Oh you know,” Keith muttered, shrugging dismissively as he glanced at his nails. He flicked a bit of french fry salt out from under one of them. “I told her I was working at a high-end bar where the patrons tend to get drunk and tip _really_ well on the weekends.”

“Really?” 

He could hear the amusement in Shiro’s voice and warmth curled in his chest as he heard the subtle lift in his tone. Keith smiled.

“And how did she take that?”

“She asked me for the address and told me to put in a good word for her,” Keith answered, to which Shiro let out an audible snort and buried his face in Keith’s shoulder. His whole body shook with silent laughter, his hair tickling Keith’s shoulder and the sight of Shiro finally relaxing at last comforted Keith enough that he let out a quiet laugh as well.

“Shiro, stop it, that tickles.”

“Sorry, baby, I can’t,” Shiro chuckled, giving Keith’s ribs a squeeze. “Let me hang on to you a little long, I just need to catch my breath.”

“What, was it that funny?” Keith scoffed, trying and failing to pry Shiro away from his midsection.

“No, not really. It’s just the idea of _you_ bringing a bunch of snobby rich people their drinks and not snapping at someone the instant they made some kind of rude comment. I just can’t picture it.”

“Shut up,” Keith warned, not a trace of venom in his voice. He squirmed as Shiro nuzzled his stubbly chin into Keith’s spine and slapped sharply at Shiro’s wandering hand as it crawled further and further south past his belly button.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, these tiny little things made him kind of happy. Cuddling after sex, answering to pet names, being spoken to as if Keith was more than just a paid companion... He liked looking at Shiro when he was basking in the afterglow of a good time and he liked the way Shiro looked at him too. It was one of the things Keith was growing to enjoy about their time together, watching Shiro go from being tired and haggard at the end of a long day’s work to unwinding and even laughing with Keith as the long nights drew to a close...

It was dangerous, this game of chicken he was playing with himself and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not when Shiro looked so _happy_ when he was spending time with Keith.

“Right, I almost forgot,” Shiro mumbled, half sliding out of bed and reaching for his pants. “I think I still owe you extra for last time.”

“No, you don’t,” Keith said, confused, tugging him back. “You paid exactly what you said you would. In fact, Romelle nearly fainted when I tried to buy her coffee again.”

“Oh, did she?”

Dropping his wallet back onto the ground, Shiro fixed Keith with an odd look.

“Romelle. You talk about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Well yeah, we’ve known each other since high school,” Keith deadpanned. “I think I already mentioned that before.”

“She know you pretty well?”

Keith shrugged.

“Better than a lot of other people, I guess. Why?”

“No reason,” Shiro declared, settling himself in opposite Keith.

With his head propped up on his prosthetic arm and an easy smile gracing his handsome features, Shiro looked more like a picture from a fashion magazine than a real flesh-and-blood person whose heart had been beating against Keith’s skin not two seconds before. The outlines of his muscles stood out in sharp relief against the back light of the dim bedroom lamps and Keith couldn’t help but mentally trace the contours of each and every one of the scars across Shiro’s body as they broke up the perfect curves that made up his form.

Keith wanted to kiss those scars...

Shiro scratched his chin.

“She just seems like a very curious person. You ever thought about telling her the truth about where you’re getting the money?”

“What? No way,” Keith exclaimed, jerking away from him in shock. “I am not gonna let anyone find out about the things I do to pay for class. They wouldn’t understand. And besides, let’s say I _did_ tell Romelle—I honestly don’t think she’d believe me.”

“But what if the poor thing just wants a sugar daddy of her own to help her pay the bills?”

Keith scowled.

“I don’t think she’s into big buff scary guys like yourself,” he said, shoving Shiro so hard that the bigger man fell back against the pillows with a surprised “oof.” 

Climbing aboard, Keith pinned Shiro’s shoulders against the bed, pressing his hips against the other man’s with his lips twisted into a subtle pout. He only realized Shiro had been kidding when the man was unable to hold back his laughter any longer and at once Keith’s face began to burn. He tried to get off but Shiro had grabbed firmly onto his hips and locked Keith in place on his lap.

“I wasn’t suggesting _I_ would be hers,” Shiro wheezed, breath hitching in his throat as Keith shifted his weight just so over his lower half. “You know I’m not into women, right? I just thought maybe I could, as you said, ‘put in a good word for her.’ But, Keith, I gotta know--”

He bucked his hips up, almost unseating the young man in his lap with a sudden roll of chiseled abs and flexing muscle. Keith let out a sharp gasp as Shiro brushed up against him.

“You think I’m scary?”

Shiro rolled his hips again, his lower half coming to life against Keith’s bare skin as Keith struggled in his grasp. He licked his lips, eyeing Keith like he was the dessert they’d forgotten to order.

“You scared of me, Keith?”

“I ain’t scared of shit,” Keith shot back, pushing back against Shiro and ignoring the fire burning in his cheeks. “Especially not of guys like you.” 

His voice suddenly pitched up when Shiro grabbed Keith’s gradually lengthening shaft in one hand and gave him a not-so-subtle squeeze.

“ _God, that mouth of yours_ ,” Shiro hissed as Keith’s cock swelled and leaked between his fingers. “I can give you better things to do with that pretty mouth.”

“Yeah?” Keith whispered breathlessly, the challenge clear in his dark-blue eyes even as Shiro gave his ass a firm squeeze. 

He leaned in close and draped his lanky arms over Shiro’s broad shoulders, shifting his weight so that he was sitting _very_ comfortably in the man’s lap. The heat from Shiro’s naked body radiated onto Keith’s skin like an open flame and his lips stretched upwards in a defiant smirk as he aggressively ground his hips against Shiro’s.

“What’re you gonna do? Gag me?”

His words were cut off as Shiro shoved his metallic fingers directly into Keith’s open mouth, effectively shutting him up as he pumped his hand once over Keith’s dribbling length and his laugh was almost fiendish as he felt Keith moan around his fingers.

“Not today, kitten,” Shiro whispered, although he looked like he was considering it. “Maybe some other time, especially if I can’t get you to behave. Right now...”

His eyes flashed and Keith swallowed, unsure if his heart was beating from nervousness or excitement. In the brief moment he let his guard down, Shiro had flipped him onto his back and was now bearing down on him like a hungry animal. His eyes glowed silver in the lamplight as he leaned over Keith, the top of whose head was just a few inches away from the edge of the bed and he tried to remain still as Shiro’s breath flowed hot over his exposed neck.

“I think I’ll teach you how to talk a little more nicely. Since I’m going to be your sugar daddy for a little while longer, I’d like to hear you call me that. Think you can do that for me, Keith?”

Sugar daddy? Keith’s brain ground to a halt. Shiro wanted Keith to call him, “Daddy?” Was this another kink? And if it was, how did Shiro make it sound so hot?

When Keith didn’t answer right away, Shiro bent forward and smoothed the dark locks of hair away from Keith’s forehead. He licked Keith’s temple.

“Say it. Call me Daddy. You know you want to.”

And as he let his full weight fall upon Keith’s body, his cock pressed into Keith’s at an angle where the young man could _feel_ Shiro’s slick running down his stomach and his breath came out in an involuntary moan.

“Well, Keith?” Shiro asked, pushing himself up just enough that he could look his partner in the face. He stroked Keith’s cheek.

“You make me cum better than you did earlier,” Keith whispered, his eyes clouding over as he looked Shiro up and down, “And I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want, you sicko.”

Shiro’s lip curled.

“You got it, kitten.”

He yanked Keith forward so that he was no longer in danger of falling off the bed and threw those long, slim legs over his own shoulders, positioning himself with his lower lip tucked between his teeth and letting Keith watch as Shiro got ready to use him again. 

Keith’s legs trembled in Shiro’s grip; he _knew_ how ready he still was, thanks to their preparations from earlier that night and he knew that Shiro would feel it as well. It didn’t hurt at all when the man seated himself all the way inside and Keith rolled his head back against the mattress, breathing out in a gasp, his satisfaction fully audible in the way he whispered Shiro’s name.  
“What was that?” Shiro asked, bucking his hips once so that it hit Keith right where he liked it.

“Daddy...” Keith breathed, fingers twisting around the sheets as Shiro drove into him again. His back arched and he let out a happy sigh. 

“ _Yes, Daddy._ ”

“That’s a good kitten,” Shiro purred, the sound vibrating low in his chest like the growl of a hungry lion. He slowly pushed his way forward again and licked his lips as Keith made another small, lewd sound. “Maybe if you’re real good, I’ll bring home a collar next time and domesticate you, you little stray.”

“Sounds kinky,” Keith groaned, his voice ending on another choked gasp as Shiro drove into that spot again. “Do I get to try out any of _my_ kinks?”

“Only if you’re good,” Shiro whispered, hitching Keith’s body up a little higher so he could deliver a sharp little slap to Keith’s ass. “Will you be good for me, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy. _Fuck—!_ ”

A tremor rolled through his whole body as Shiro dropped low and drove forward, scooting them both a full inch towards the foot of the bed as soon as he heard the word, “Daddy” issue from between Keith’s lips. A little winded and more than a little dazed, Keith opened his mouth and called out the word again. He was not disappointed when Shiro repeated the motion, both of them digging their hands into the mattress, Shiro digging his knees in as well so that Keith wouldn’t move when Shiro drove into him again. Keith wet his lips, warmth curling in the pit of his stomach as he saw the way Shiro looked at him so he whispered the word one more time, wanting Shiro to devour him in every way possible.

So Shiro had a Daddy kink. And if Keith wasn’t careful, he was going to be infected with that very same kink as well. As if reading Keith’s thoughts, Shiro paused above him, silver eyes hooded as they took in the sight before them. He was chewing apprehensively on his own lip, sweat beading on his scarred nose and something about the sight of this calm, collected man starting to unravel at the seams when he was buried to the hilt in Keith made the young man want to pick at the fraying threads of Shiro’s self-control until he lost it all entirely.

“What’s wrong, _Daddy?_ ” Keith whispered, indigo eyes glittering with mischief. He wet his lips, heat blooming in his cheeks as Shiro’s gaze honed in on his mouth once again. “Aren’t you going to give it to me?”

He dug his heel into Shiro’s shoulder blade to pull him in closer and Shiro frowned. 

“Didn’t I just tell you, you needed to be _good_?” he asked, sliding himself almost all the way out of Keith’s ass. 

Keith’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open and he was just about to beg Shiro not to take it back out when he saw the dark look in the man’s eyes. Keith was definitely about to get what he wanted.

“Sorry, Daddy,” he whispered, his voice so hushed it was almost inaudible.

“Good boy,” Shiro sneered.

He cradled part of Keith’s bottom with one large, strong hand and gave Keith a little pinch, startling Keith into tightening up just a touch before Shiro snapped his hips and thrust into Keith again, so hard and so strong that Keith let out an actual sob, a tear leaking out the corner of his eye as Shiro slammed into him with all the force of a god.

“Shiro— _Daddy—ahh_ —!!”

Were they alone on this entire floor? Were there any other rooms nearby in which someone could hear the excessive screams coming out of Keith’s mouth and rush in or call the police? And what would they think, if they found him like this, lying on his back with his legs in the air, getting fucked within an inch of his life with Shiro bearing down on him like some kind of animal? Keith prayed they would close the door and leave them alone; if his heart stopped when Shiro stopped moving, he would die tonight and face the infernal flames with not a single regret to his name.

His hair was mussed beyond belief, sweat soaking into the sheets, their bodies inching closer and closer to the literal and metaphorical edge and Keith felt a sudden rush of air over the top part of his head as Shiro gradually pushed them both all the way towards the foot of the bed. He was going to be so sore tomorrow...

“Shiro...!”

He was starting to lose his voice but he didn’t want it to stop—didn’t want Shiro to stop. He reached up and cradled Shiro’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over those fine, fine cheekbones. The pressure was building in his lower half and he strained to make his voice work. He wanted to say something to Shiro but he couldn’t remember what. Shiro could feel it too, letting out a surprised grunt as Keith suddenly tightened up around him but driving forward just the same, pushing into Keith in such a way that the young man’s knees and thighs were forced up against his own body, bouncing against his heaving chest. It was so hot... Keith’s vision swam until the room was melting away around them and he closed his eyes and called out one more time.

“ _Daddy!_ ”

He came first, in an explosion of heat that filled his brain with fireworks and left his body buzzing as if electrified and he opened his eyes to see he’d shot his load in a hot, sticky streak all over his own chest and neck. He thought he saw lights dancing behind his eyes as Shiro let out one final thrust and came forcefully inside Keith’s ass, both of them only remembering they’d forgone the condom completely when Keith felt thick, viscous cum slowly dripping out of his hole and running down along his backside.

Breathing hard, Shiro set him down gently on a clean stretch of linens and regarded him with a smile that was equal parts thoroughly satisfied and completely dazed. Even halfway to collapse from exhaustion and completely disoriented from the force of their respective climaxes, with his cheeks faintly flushed from the residual heat and his eyes starting to unfocus as the aftermath took its toll, Shiro looked so beautiful in his afterglow that Keith had to banish the thought of immediately grabbing the man’s face and kissing him until he stole the last breath from Shiro’s lungs.

But that was off-limits. 

So he just swallowed thickly and whispered the words once again.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

* * *

“I dunno, Keith. This seems kinda wrong.”

“How is it wrong?” Keith sputtered, “You run the numbers through the equation and you get the answer. It doesn’t have to be complicated!”

“Yeah, but mice being launched through space at a thousand kilometers per second?” Romelle protested, scratching her head with the end of her mechanical pencil so that her braid began to fray around it. “That just seems wrong.”

It was Friday afternoon, which meant Keith and Romelle were sitting at their favorite coffee shop downtown, drinking cheap caffeinated beverages while trying to push through as much of their homework as possible before the weekend and their side-jobs interfered. This week’s assignment was particularly brutal and in light of their upcoming midterm, Keith normally wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Unfortunately, these days he was finding it oddly difficult to concentrate. 

It was probably from a lack of sleep, Keith reasoned as he took another sip of his espresso. Luckily, there was a solution to that, and a tasty one too.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the guy who wrote the question. Take it up with him.”

Romelle made a face.

“As if I’d argue with a guy who spends his weekends going to conferences about alternate realities,” she deadpanned, tapping vindictively at the photo of the textbook’s author, a balding middle-aged man with odd-looking whiskers sticking out from either side of his face. “He doesn’t even look like he knows what a razor is.”

She sighed and thumbed through the pages until she arrived at the answer key.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t say things like that. Allura says he actually passed away a couple weeks ago but they’re still trying to identify the cause. The least we could do for this poor man is to at least pass the exam next week.”

Her mouth thinned into a flat line.

“Sorry, Keith. The answer is forty-two.”

“Are you serious?” Keith groaned putting down his drink with a sharp clink and flipping back through his notes. “I could’ve sworn I used the right equation.”

As he flipped to a fresh page and began scribbling furiously on the thin blue lines, muttering angrily under his breath and punching numbers into his calculator like he was trying to break the damn thing in half, Romelle took a slow, calming sip of her latte and released a disappointed breath. She regarded him with one violet eye and rested her chin on her free hand.

“So what’s been going on with you, Keith? You’ve been kind of... distracted... lately,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine, everything’s fine,” Keith mumbled absentmindedly, lenching his teeth when he discovered the _obvious_ mistake he’d made earlier. 

Romelle watched him quietly as he hastily erased the incorrect portion of his answer and scribbled down the necessary steps to get to the right answer, joining him when he turned his attention to the next problem and tackling it with him. This time, they both got it right and to celebrate, they treated themselves to a five-minute break. An ill-timed one, Keith would later discover.

“I think you may be working too many late night hours at the new job,” Romelle confessed, tilting her head to the side so that one of her long, beautiful ponytails cascaded over her shoulder like a straw-colored waterfall. “I haven’t seen you drink this much coffee since, well...”

She wrinkled her nose.

“Ever. How many times a week are you at that bar anyway?”

“A few,” Keith answered, keeping his eyes trained on a vintage poster of a giant robot on the far wall. “I’m not quitting though. It’s good money.”

“I know it is, but can’t you at least take a few days off? In case you forgot, this test is worth half our grade,” Romelle persisted, setting down her latte. “If we want to pass this class with the grades we need to transfer out of this crappy community college, then we’re both going to have to get down to business. I gave up interning at the police office this semester for this. You should take a week off to study. They can’t be _that_ short-staffed!”

Keith paused to consider her words.

“I’ll talk to them,” he said, flipping the page on his notebook as the timer went off for their break to end.

Romelle suddenly leaned forward.

“What’s that?” she asked, jabbing her finger at something Keith had doodled in the margins of Wednesday’s notes. Her coffee sloshed in her grip and she set it down at once, spraying light brown droplets all over the page. Before Keith could stop her, she’d snatched the notebook out from under his fingers and was gawping at it with a sense of wonder.

She let out a low whistle.

“Whose eyes are these?” she asked, pointing to the drawing with one short, petal-pink manicured nail. 

“No one’s,” Keith professed, trying to snatch it back, but she hoisted it just out of reach and their table wobbled dangerously as the edge of Keith’s hipbone slammed painfully into heavy wood. Bent over in pain, he was left there hunched over, half lying on his side of table and clutching his hip while Romelle flipped merrily through the pages of his notebook, humming and wowing and occasionally murmuring appreciatively whenever her eyes landed on something particularly pleasing.

“These are beautiful, Keith! How come you never told anybody you could draw?”

“Because I can’t?” Keith gasped weakly, reaching out to take his notebook back with trembling fingers, to which Romelle merely stuck out her tongue and jerked even further away.

“I’m serious! You should think about applying to art school instead. You’re incredibly talented.”

“No thanks,” Keith grumbled, purposefully choosing to not mention the fact that he’d tried it already and had chosen not to continue. “Besides, I like being able to eat.”

At this, Romelle made a face.

“Oh come on, really?”

When Keith ignored her, she turned to a page she’d marked with her index finger and shoved the notebook in his face, though she kept it far enough away that Keith would have to lunge forward if he wanted to take it back, something that they both knew his aching hip bone would refuse. She tapped once again at the image of a pair of eyes, finely drawn in thin, arcing black lines of ballpoint pen, smoldering beneath the cover of thick, but well-trimmed brows, the expression exquisite, yet intense. 

“You drew this from memory! I know you did. You’ve drawn these same eyes everywhere, all over your notes from the past several days. No wonder you needed me to lend you mine.”

As proof, she flipped through page after page of Keith’s tattered red notebook, eagerly pointing out the eyes wherever they showed up as if it were a game of “Where’s Waldo” they were playing instead of a semi-serious invasion of Keith’s privacy. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not hiding the sketches in a different location but he couldn’t help himself. Professor Montgomery’s class wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing he’d taken and doodling features of Shiro’s face or eyes in the margins helped give him something more pleasant to focus on while he waited for the rest of the class to get to the answer he’d arrived at a few minutes previously.

Correctly taking Keith’s growing scowl as a sign of her friend’s growing unease, Romelle put down the notebook and returned it to him, flinching slightly as he took it back with a sharp tug of his black half-gloved fingers. Her violet eyes softened.

“Keith. Whose eyes are these?” she asked again. “Is it someone from work?”

Keith jerked back in surprise.

“Wha—? No.”

“I can tell when you’re lying Keith. Your face is red.”

And as his hand flew to his own burning cheek, Romelle studied him, leaning forward and tracing the rim of her coffee cup with a contemplative expression her face.

“Is this person the reason you don’t want to take time off?” she asked, her finger stilling on the ceramic rim. Her petal-pink nail slipped forward, almost into her drink. “Is he someone you want to spend more time with?”

The heavy silence that hung like a curtain between them spoke volumes more than Keith ever could. Keith looked away. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek. She sighed.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about this right now. Honestly, it is. Just... think about your future. Think about what you set out to do. If you don’t want to take more time off from your job, it’s fine. Lord knows you’re still kicking ass in the class rankings...”

At the sound of her familiar sardonic tone, Keith slowly returned his gaze to her and she smiled, regarding the man across the table with a look of fully platonic affection in her crystal violet eyes.

“Let’s keep going, okay? Cousin Allura’s picking me up in another forty-five minutes and I want to finish this damn set of matrices before she gets here and gives me an earful.”

Keith grinned back.

“You got it.”

They spent the rest of the hour finishing the last of the problems and then some, reviewing past exams Keith had gotten as a special favor from an upperclassman (“How did you get these?” Romelle had squawked, upon plugging the USB drive into her laptop. “Don’t ask,” Keith returned, thinking unremorsefully of the quiet night he’d spent with one James Griffin in order to get this precious information) and finishing their coffees. When Romelle’s phone went off with its familiar bright, cheerful pop song ringtone (“Don’t make that face at me, Keith. You love Ariana Grande and you know it!”), they metaphorically patted themselves on the back for a job well done and she picked it up with a happy smile on her face.

As she pushed back her chair and stood to go, she abruptly froze and turned an unusually thoughtful expression on Keith.

“Hey. Just one more question before you go. About that guy...” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Does he know?”

When Keith ignored her and put on his earbuds, she shook her head and sighed.

“That’s too bad. I just think... if he knew? I’d hope he’d be able to appreciate what a catch you are. Later, Keith.”

And then, as if on cue, when she turned around and left, Keith’s phone went off and he picked it up.

Another text message from an unknown number. Only a time in the late evening listed again. He sent a short reply and put it back down.

No, Shiro did not know. Because Shiro could never know. And Keith was determined to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurghhh. I'm really *trying* with this whole plot thing, guys. *wheeze*  
> Thanks again for reading!!!  
> Next 2 chapters are already in the works. So get ready for some serious angst over your Thanksgiving holiday week.  
> Lots of love to you all~  
> Kudos, comments and general screaming here in the comments or on tumblr still very very much appreciated!!  
> @patchwork-panda 's inbox/message box always open! > w <


	8. Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 (Light Bondage)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *angst warning coming up!*  
> If you really want to cry?  
> When you get to the last line break (break #5), listen to a sad Kpop song of your choosing. Instrumentals tend to be better.  
> My recommendation is "No Answer" by Younha, found here at the 30:54 mark: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvKCVJWi0tU
> 
> I really poured my heart and soul into this chapter. I really hope you like it.  
> Thank you all so much for your wonderful words of support and encouragement. I don't know how I could've done this without y'all.  
> Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

“You’re not staying for dinner?!”

Romelle’s eyes widened almost comically and she turned her affronted gasp into a pout with such lightning fast speed that Allura would’ve missed the whole thing if she’d picked the wrong moment to blink.

“I can’t. I’m so sorry, Romelle,” she sighed, staring straight ahead of her at the traffic lights above their heads as they changed from red to green while Romelle silently fumed beside her. 

One raindrop, then two hit the windshield and within moments the cars ahead of them as well as the buildings on either side smeared together in a set of colorful blurs, the entire world around the car vanishing in a curtain of heavy rain. She pushed a button for the windshield wipers while Romelle dramatically slumped down in the seat beside her and crossed her arms like a brooding teenager.

“But we’ve been planning this thing for _two weeks_!” she groaned, planting her cheek against the rolled-up window so that it stuck fast to the icy glass. She shot her cousin an irritated look, which Allura did not return, keeping her eyes steady upon the road as the traffic began to pick up around them. “What could be so important that you can’t come to dinner at the last minute?”

“There’s been another homicide.”

Romelle stiffened as Allura’s grip tightened on the wheel.

“You mean like last time?” she asked, her voice quieted to a hush.

Allura’s jaw grew tight.

“Worse. I’d share the details with you but... as you’re only an intern...”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Romelle said quickly, sitting up straight in her seat as the old leather squeaked around her movements. “And so will my parents. But, Allura...”

She frowned, the concern evident in her large violet eyes.

“Are you going to be okay? You’ve been working later and later hours. If these...” she wrinkled her nose, processing the unfamiliar word as she worked her lips around them, “ _unsubs_ are as dangerous as you say they are, wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t coming home so late every day? You know we trust you and all but you’re family. We can’t help but worry.”

“I’ll be fine, Romelle, thank you for your concern,” Allura replied, warmth blooming in her chest as she shot her cousin a sidelong glance. She smiled. “It’s okay. I won’t be alone out there. My team’s going to meet me at the site and I trust they’ll have my back.”

“Your team?”

Romelle’s lips suddenly twisted into a subtle smirk.

“You mean Lance?”

“Lance will be there because he is an important member of the team,” Allura replied evenly, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the road as she answered though her cheeks seemed to darken in the gloom. “Hunk and Pidge will be there as well so we will be able to collect all the evidence we need in a timely manner and have it ready for analysis first thing in the morning. You--”

She shot Romelle a steely look.

“You just make sure you’re ready for the midterms next week. You’re going to have a fair amount of filing to do upon your return so make sure you do well next week and take care not to have to take remedial exams. Coran already said he would help you if you need anything else as far as studying goes. ...I’m still not sure how he ended up as a coroner when he has such an advance degree but life’s funny like that sometimes, isn’t it?”

Romelle smiled.

“Sure is.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of a small one-story house in the outer reaches of the city, where the streets had recently become better paved and all but one of the lights was now working. Romelle opened the car door and dashed out into the rain, calling out after Allura as she slammed the door shut.

“Thanks for the ride! Stay safe out there!”

“You too! Study hard!”

As she watched Romelle duck inside the front door and wave goodbye, Allura’s pleasant smile disappeared in a slow fade and she shifted the gears into reverse with a determined look in her deep blue eyes. Plugging the newest address into her GPS, she peeled down the street with a hearty splash and drove off into the night.

* * *

Keith dropped his backpack onto the ground and took off his shoes. The lights clicked on around him, automatic sensors detecting his presence as he arrived in the kitchen like it had countless times before and as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water, he couldn’t help but reflect upon how the design of the kitchen reminded him of some kind of spaceship from an old sci-fi flick. It was something about the faint blue lighting and the monochrome color scheme. At least it was more tasteful. He cracked open the cap and took a sip as he headed back out into the living room.

He’d arrived early once again (though this time he had no plans to go through Shiro’s clothes) so he hadn’t been expecting Shiro to be here just yet but it was always somewhat unnerving coming back to such an empty apartment so late after dark, the only other thing in the room with a face being the tiny lion statuette beside the TV, whom Keith had affectionately taken to calling, “Black” even though there was hardly any black on its silvery body. Keith’s eyes softened as he took a seat on the couch opposite the placid creature. Its polished metallic surface gleamed in the bright lighting overhead and Keith was suddenly, forcefully reminded once again of Shiro’s eyes.

_“Does he know?”_

Romelle’s words echoed back to him from earlier that afternoon and he shook his head vigorously. Plunging his hands into his bag for the exams he’d earned a while back, he dropped them onto the table and began shuffling and rearranging them noisily, trying to drown out the thoughts rearing up like a cresting wave in the back of his head. He dug out his pencil and got back to work, scribbling furiously and working rapidly through the problems in an attempt to escape. But it was no use. When he looked back up in the corner, there was the lion, still sitting there calmly, Keith’s own reflection distorted in its polished silver eyes.

 _“Does he know?”_ the lion seemed to ask.

“Does he know _what_?!” Keith snapped, slamming his hands down upon the coffee table in a rage. His own anguished face appeared to answer for him and he ducked back down into his notes, avoiding that accusatory stare only to be greeted with a pen-and-ink stare he’d drawn himself.

_Does Shiro know how you feel about him?_

“No.”

His words seemed to echo in the silence. He gritted his teeth.

“I can’t.”

His voice sounded bitter even to his own ears and he hung his head.

“That’s… That’s not what we agreed upon.”

His voice broke.

“It’s not what he’s paying me for.”

He grabbed the corner of his booklet and flipped the page, letting out a sharp hiss as the hard paper sliced into his uncovered skin. Instinctively, he brought the tip of his index finger to his lips and sucked at the wound, bitterness and the tang of salt sweeping over his tongue as a sharp physical ache seemed to pulse through his entire form.

“Ugh.”

He just needed to get through the rest of this week. Then he would be able to forget Shiro and move on with his life. He had a test to study for and a future ahead of him, one that was definitely within reach if he wanted it. 

...But now there was something else he wanted too and that something else was someone he could never have.

His finger stung as he turned the page.

* * *

“What the—what _is_ this?!”

Allura’s tablet fell to the ground with a sharp clatter and a crack ran up the glass screen. Her blue eyes darted about the hallway and as she brought her shaking hands up to her face, Lance rushed towards her, arms outstretched to catch her as her knees gave way. She turned towards him, away from the bodies laying strewn about the hallway and reached out to reclaim her tablet.

Lance handed it back to her with a quiet grimace.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, exchanging a subtle glance with Pidge and Hunk. “I know.”

Two men lay upon the floor, their eyes wide, glassy and staring beneath their broken sunglasses, a third slumped against the wall opposite a warped wooden door, the thick slab riddled with holes and barely hanging onto its hinges. As she approached the bodies in the hall, the signs of carnage became more and more obvious. Here and there, across the moldering floral wallpaper were bullet holes and sooty tears, anywhere from a shallow smear barely grazing the wall to deeper notches several inches in, the wood charred at the edges wherever it was damaged. Streaks of darkened blood, freshly congealed, line the wall just above the body nearest the door and as Pidge moved away from the corpse, Allura could make out a blackened, singed gash across the neck, so wide that the head was almost severed from the rest of the body.

“I took photos already so you can take a closer look,” Lance stated, glancing uneasily at the one with the nearly severed head.

“What did this?” Allura whispered. “Who—?”

“Whoever it was, they’ve got something that can cauterize wounds,” Pidge declared as she punched in something on her tablet. “These are all clearly burn marks. Might tell us something about the weapon.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m ballistics,” Hunk chimed in, “This clearly wasn’t done by a bullet.”

He gestured to the wall.

“These were done by bullets. And I’m pretty sure they were fired by these guys.”

He pointed at the man opposite the door, a revolver lying just short of his extended fingers. He cast a weary glance around the hallway where the other two bodies were also accompanied by nearby revolvers. 

“Any way you look at it,” Pidge muttered, “It looks like these three were up against an opponent they couldn’t handle.”

“And what triggered the fight might be in there,” Hunk continued, inclining his head towards the wrecked wooden door. “You wanna take a look, Chief?”

“I got photos of that too, so you’re free to walk around the place,” Lance said, handing a tiny chip to Pidge, who plugged it into her tablet. His mouth thinned into a line as he looked up at Allura. “Spoiler alert: it’s something we’re already pretty familiar with.”

Donning a nitrile glove, Allura walked through the doorway.

There, in the center of the room, was another body. Unlike old Slav, this person was lying on the couch, but once again there was that characteristic single bullet wound to the head with the expected splatter pattern that followed. A single bloody hole on the opposite end of the couch was all that remained of the bullet. She brought her hand to her eyes and sighed.

“So it looks like our usual assassin was here.”

“Yep. And he took out his target but it looks like these guys were either waiting for him or somehow managed to get on the wrong side of his weapon,” Hunk provided.

“We have to catch the one who did this,” Allura ground out, her eyes steely. “Before anyone else gets hurt.”

* * *

The door swung open and Keith heard a quiet clunk... followed by a soft grunt of pain. He set down his notebook and rose unsteadily from his place on the couch.

“Shiro?” he called out, walking towards the entryway. The silver lion watched as he exited the main room. “Shiro, is that you?”

“...Yeah, it’s me,” the familiar voice called back but he sounded strained like he was breathing hard.

Keith’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached and when he set foot by the entryway, the lights in the kitchen clicked on. He heard his own sharp intake of breath.

At first glance, his client looked perfectly fine, sitting there in the hallway, taking off his shoes like he usually did before coming in. But the more Keith looked, the more he could tell that there was something seriously wrong with Shiro. His silver eyes looked almost tarnished as they lifted up to glance at Keith’s face and darkened shadows hung from the base of those dulled gray eyes, more pronounced thanks to the harsh, bright lights of the kitchen ceiling and Keith’s fingers clutched at the front of his own shirt as he beheld the skull-like countenance Shiro had arrived with. Even the scar across Shiro’s nose looked unnaturally coarse upon his pallid skin and as Keith slowly drew closer, he saw the thin sheen of sweat that plastered Shiro’s soft white hair to his forehead.

Shiro smiled, his jaw unnaturally tight. 

“How are you, Keith?”

“I’m...”

“Fine” is what Keith wanted to say but he couldn’t quite get the words out. They were stuck in his throat and when he opened his mouth to try to speak, something else entirely came out in a sudden rush.

“What happened to you?”

Shiro chuckled. The sound grated like jagged stones in Keith’s ears.

“Got held up at the office today, that’s all. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

He straightened up and lurched for the closet and Keith scrambled forward to take Shiro’s jacket from him.

“Here, I got it,” he said, pushing the taller man upright as he took the heavy fabric in his hands. “You should go sit down. Wait for me, I’ll get you some water.”

Shiro looked at him strangely then, a question in his clouded gray eyes as he scanned Keith’s worried face. His lips parted as if to speak but before he could say a thing, Keith, having put his jacket away in the tiny foyer closet, ushered him to the couch where he carefully helped the man sit down. As Keith came back with a bottle of water and pushed it into Shiro’s trembling mechanical hand, he noticed a single drop of red on the cuff of Shiro’s otherwise pristine white shirt. But he didn’t ask what it was. Shiro seemed to be physically intact at the moment and that was all that mattered.

“Thanks, Keith. I’ll be alright,” Shiro muttered, barely taking a few sips from the bottle and setting it back down with a heavy clunk. As Keith moved aside for him to settle in, he swung his long legs over the side of the couch and rested his hands upon his stomach. He closed his eyes.

“I just need to nap for a little.”

“...What happened?” Keith asked at last, knowing how slim the chances were that Shiro might answer one of his questions for once. “Are you sick? Should I call for an ambulance?”

“No, this happens sometimes,” Shiro said quietly, thick brows knitted tightly together as he tried to twist his face into something Keith hoped was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He grimaced and slowly drew in a shaky breath, the tension appearing to finally ease in his sturdy frame as he slowly let it back out. 

“You don’t need to call for an ambulance. Like I said, I just need to take a nap. If you really need to call for someone later, pick up that phone in the bedroom and ask for someone from the manager’s office to come up here. They’ll know what to do.”

“But--”

“Keith.”

Shiro’s tone left no room for argument and Keith backed down immediately. As debilitated as the man looked, Keith didn’t think it would be a good idea if he were to try Shiro’s patience right now, not when his gray eyes had darkened to a shade resembling storm clouds and he had that odd red stain on his sleeve. His mechanical hand twitched.

“I’ll be fine. Just... let me rest.”

He closed his eyes and took only moments to fall deep into a death-like sleep, with only the steady rise and fall of his broad chest to assure the anxious Keith that he was indeed still alive. Rattled, Keith remained at his side a little longer, watching Shiro rest with an uneasiness that he couldn’t quite explain, only picking up his things and moving them to the kitchen table when he was sure that Shiro wasn’t going to succumb to whatever was ailing him. He pushed aside the vase with the flowers so that he could continue to monitor Shiro as he was studying and continued with the practice exams in front of him.

* * *

Hours later, Keith closed his booklet with a soft tap, lined pages fitting neatly together like the folds of an accordion and looked over once again at the couch. Enough time had passed that he was able to finish all of the practice questions he currently had and even review some of the more difficult chapters of his textbook but Shiro never stirred, not even once. Glancing quietly at his phone, then back at Shiro, Keith gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

It was getting late. Very late. It wasn’t that Keith hadn’t stayed over before; he’d been doing this since the very beginning and often enough that now the hotel staff had started leaving them sufficient toiletries for two instead of one. However, the circumstances tonight were very, very different and the longer Shiro remained prone on the couch, the more concerned Keith became. He was about to reconsider calling the hotel staff to come over and check on Shiro when he heard a soft groan and a subtle shifting of cloth and at once, all thoughts of anything else were forgotten.

Shiro was awake.

“Shiro!”

He was at the man’s side in an instant, accidentally scraping his knees through the holes in his ripped jeans as he kneeled down by the couch in his rush to get to Shiro as quickly as possible. Although his skin was burned red and raw from the force of his poorly timed landing, he barely felt the sting of pain when Shiro turned his beautiful silver eyes upon him once more. Thankfully, Shiro’s gaze was now as warm and clear as a bright summer’s day and for an instant, Keith thought he might start crying from relief alone now that Shiro had finally come back to the land of the living... back to Keith.

He clasped Shiro’s hand to his cheek as the man hesitantly reached out for him.

“You stayed,” Shiro murmured, something like wonder coloring the deep, sleep-roughened tones of his voice as he dragged the pad of his living thumb across Keith’s subtly flushing cheek. His gaze softened further as Keith gingerly leaned into his touch and Shiro smiled, the shadows under his eyes slowly but surely melting away.

“Thank you, Keith.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Keith mumbled, absentmindedly running a finger across the back of Shiro’s hand. “I couldn’t just go and leave you here like that.”

Shiro’s smile grew imperceptibly hollow.

“Like I said, the hotel staff--”

“Shiro, you called for me!” Keith exclaimed, indigo eyes flashing. “Don’t you get it? I had to stay!”

“Keith...!”

Shiro’s voice cracked in surprise.

A subtle hush gradually fell over the darkened corner of the penthouse suite and as the seconds ticked on by, Keith found himself wondering why neither he nor Shiro seemed able to move from their respective positions on the couch. His cheek was growing hotter under Shiro’s touch, his bones aching and his legs tingling like static electricity as they slowly grew numb but he didn’t want to go, not when Shiro was awake and looking at Keith as if there was no one left in the entire world but him.

When Shiro spoke again at last, the words that came out of his mouth were not what Keith was expecting.

“Give me your body again tonight.”

Keith’s indigo eyes widened.

“What?”

“Stay with me,” Shiro repeated, his voice low and husky and leaving no room for misinterpretation as his gaze grew darker and darker. “I want you, Keith.”

“But you’re hurt—or sick—or _something_ ,” Keith stammered as Shiro pulled his hand away and slowly got up. “Is it a good idea for us to—”

“I didn’t call you here to be my caretaker for the night, Keith,” Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I called you here so that you and I could spend a little more quality time together.”

_Quality time..._

Keith’s cheeks burned as the memories of those long, sleepless nights suddenly flooded back. The last remaining band-aid on his neck began to itch and he reached up to scratch at it over one of many countless slow-healing love bites Shiro had left on his skin from who-knew-when. It didn’t help and his skin only burned hotter as he tried to alleviate the itch.

“Unfortunately something... unexpected came up earlier this evening,” Shiro muttered, disappointment etched into his very posture as he ran long, black prosthetic fingers through the locks of his stark-white bangs, silver eyes flicking up at Keith who quickly glanced away from the little red stain on the cuff of Shiro’s sleeve.

“You don’t want more time to rest?” Keith asked, voice faltering as Shiro towered over him where he sat on the coffee table, casting a dark shadow over Keith’s face and body.

“Keith...”

He took the point of Keith’s chin between two prosthetic fingers and stroked at the angle of his narrow jaw.

“I said I wanted _you_.”

Keith’s lips parted and he grew silent as the heat began to pool in his lower body. He wet his lips.

“Okay.”

“Come,” Shiro whispered and led Keith by the hand into the bedroom they’d begun to share, the rough black fabric of the glove on Keith’s smaller hand already feeling thick and unnecessary between their heated palms.

He followed Shiro past the door frame, where they stopped at that large set of black drawers just inside the room. Giving Keith’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, he let go so that he could open up the middle drawer and reached deep into the back, for something far out of Keith’s line of sight, the curve of his ass arcing beautifully as he bent forward to search the innards of the drawer. Without moving from his position by the drawers, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Would you mind if we tried something new today?” he asked, studying Keith’s face as he slowly straightened back up.

He pulled his prosthetic forearm out of the wooden drawer and took out a significant length of sturdy, crimson ropes, the silky cords shining in the lamp light as he brought it out into the room. 

Keith’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Something I’d like you to use on me,” Shiro said, answering the question Keith was about to ask. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

He dropped the long, braided ropes into Keith’s hands, the color shining like freshly spilled blood in his pitch-black gloves. The ropes felt heavy in his hands.

“Shiro...”

He swallowed nervously and looked up, searching Shiro’s eyes for an explanation—for any kind of instruction in what to do or how.

“I...”

He trailed off, hanging his head, twisting the ropes in his half-gloved hands.

“I’ve never done this before. How should I...?”

“Like this,” Shiro whispered.

He took both of Keith’s smaller, slimmer wrists in his living hand and traced a circle about the thinnest part of Keith’s limbs.

“Just make sure they’re tight enough that I can’t escape, even if I wanted to,” he murmured, stroking shining mechanical fingers through Keith’s thick, dark hair as he nuzzled the side of Keith’s neck. “That’s important. Can you do this for me, Keith?”

 _I’d do anything for you,_ Keith wanted to say but he just lowered his eyes and nodded.

Without another word, Shiro brought his fingers up to the first button on his starched white shirt and popped it out of its hole. As Keith watched, mouth dry, Shiro’s fingers traveled further and further down, carefully undoing each button until he was able to pull the shirt off of his broad, scarred shoulders, letting it fall to the ground with a soft flutter of cloth against carpet. With one firm, coordinated pull, Shiro peeled the thin fabric of his undershirt up his chest, the thick muscles of his upper arms flexing and straining as he stretched the thin, clingy garment over his head. It ruffled the ends of Shiro’s stiff white hair as it came away from the top of his head and he dropped it over his shoulder so that it joined his formal shirt in a thin white crescent that pooled around his feet so that he stood before Keith, shirtless and his skin glowing like amber in the dull golden light of the bedroom.

He turned those shining silver eyes upon Keith and offered him his wrists, along with a quiet, vulnerable smile.

 _Have you ever seen a man so beautiful that you started crying?_ Romelle had once asked Keith, exhausted and hungover after an exceptionally wild party and sullenly nursing her hot ginger tea as she sat across from him at their usual downtown cafe. Keith had laughed at her then, an unkind snicker that quickly turned into a shout of pain as she swiftly kicked him from under the table but tonight…  
He felt something warm prickling in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at those strong forearms, silvery-gray prosthetic against warm, living flesh lined up side by side as the rope grew heavier in his hands. He blinked.

He shouldn’t have laughed.

“Hey...” Shiro brought his hands up and cradled his face in those large, warm hands. His gray eyes crinkled with concern as he examined Keith’s face and brought his finger up to wipe at the edge of Keith’s left eye.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Keith replied, voice dry enough to crack as he spoke. “I’m fine.”

Shiro laughed gently, the sound soft and reassuring and he tilted his head so that he could whisper in Keith’s ear as the younger man began to wind the red cords over and over Shiro’s wrists.

“There you go. Tie them however you want. Remember what I said about not letting me loose.”

“What happens if you get loose?” Keith asked distractedly, his cheeks flushing redder and redder as the ropes tightened around Shiro’s forearms.

Shiro’s laugh grew coarse.

“I’d be happy to show you some other time.”

The words sent a chill running down Keith’s spine and as he finished tying the knot, he felt Shiro’s muscles strain beneath the rope, testing and trying the sturdy red fibers. The man nodded when he saw that his arms barely budged and looked to Keith expectantly until he got the message and led his captive to the center of the room, where the king-sized bed lay waiting.

“Not bad,” Shiro said, lying down on top of the mattress as Keith searched for something to tie the end of the rope to. As he raised his dark-blue eyes skyward, he found his timid gaze met by the bold, regal eyes of the painted black and silver lion, resting confidently in its thin, metal frame above the black backboard of the bed. He climbed up onto the mattress and lifted the painting off its hook.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of Shiro’s lip quirk upward in an amused smile as he took the framed painting down and turned it so that the lion was now facing the wall beside the nightstand.

“Don’t want an audience tonight?” he teased as Keith grabbed the end of the rope that was hanging loose from his bound wrists.

“Not exactly,” Keith mumbled.

He draped the end of the rope over the empty hook on the wall and sat down straddling Shiro’s hips. He pulled.

Slowly, gracefully, almost like a dancer’s, Shiro’s arms gently rose up over his head. His massive biceps flexed as they lifted away from his body, his muscular chest expanding as he breathed, broad back and shoulders settling deep into the mattress as Keith looked on with bated breath. His wrists and hands bound in layers of red, velvety rope, knuckles resting gently against the backboard of his own bed, Shiro lay there among the pillows, quietly observing Keith with those steel-gray eyes, eyes that almost glowed like live coals in the shadows of his face. He had put the painted lion away but now another beast had taken its place. He let loose out one long, faltering exhale as Shiro’s lips parted to reveal a flash of gleaming white teeth.

“What will you do with me now, Keith Kogane?”

“Whatever I want,” Keith whispered.

He tossed his end of the rope aside with a flick of the wrist and lifted his loose cotton T-shirt over his head, fully aware of the hungry look in Shiro’s eyes as he took in Keith’s half-naked form and his ruffled black hair. He bit into his lip, unzipping his own pants as he straddled Shiro’s hips between his legs, the edge of his teeth sinking into soft pink flesh as he felt Shiro’s physical response through the thin layers of his own underwear and Shiro’s trousers below. He could feel the wet stain spreading in the cloth containing him and he awkwardly brought himself up to his knees so he could take off his last piece of clothing, only remembering to remove his gloves when he brought his hands to the stretchy fabric of his waistband.

“Didn’t want to leave them on?” Shiro asked, mouth working carefully to say the words as he slowly arched his back and lifted Keith a good inch off the bed with his own hips, causing Keith to choke on his own breath as he tugged at his finger-less black gloves. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

He bucked upwards, forcing the base of his own erection against Keith’s before Keith could answer and he gasped and fell forward, knocked off-balance by Shiro’s sudden movements.  
When he pushed himself up onto his elbows, he found himself looking straight into Shiro’s exquisitely silver eyes, the streaks of his irises shining like starlight in the gloom. He lowered his lashes and smiled.

Keith couldn’t breathe.

“Tonight is yours, you know,” Shiro murmured, his breath tickling Keith’s lip as he spoke. “I’ve been a little rough with you lately and I wanted to let you have a turn. Fair’s fair, right?”

He closed his eyes completely and sighed.

“I trust you, Keith.”

_Trust..._

Keith swallowed uneasily, a knot suddenly tightening in his throat.

Shiro trusted him—trusted _Keith_? A young prostitute he had picked up from a dingy diner in the middle of the night in one of the worst parts of town, a man Shiro had known for no more than a weeks’ time at best? They’d hardly talked at all during their long nights together, so consumed by burning desire and a need for physical satisfaction that the clothes usually began coming off as soon as the two of them were alone in the suite. Even then, the chatter never strayed too far from typical small talk and it never took long for one or both of them to quickly fall asleep as they lay tangled up together in the sweat-soaked sheets. 

Shiro barely knew anything about Keith and Keith knew even less about his client.

And yet he would let Keith take control like this…

He carefully brought his hand to Shiro’s face and brushed his thumb over the man’s lower lip. He watched as the blood rushed forth and deepened its shade to a dark, rich pink. 

He could kiss Shiro. 

He could do it right now, take everything he wanted and more... 

Dark thoughts accompanied by lurid images flooded into his mind and for a moment, he considered it, running his thumb across Shiro’s mouth again as he thought about biting into his soft lips, sucking at them until they were red and swollen from overuse and licking into Shiro’s mouth until he could taste the forbidden sweetness that hung about the corners of his tongue. 

He could take Shiro for his own.

Take him the way Shiro had taken Keith almost every night of the past week, spreading him wide, pushing his way inside until he was buried deep within that beautifully carved ass and laying waste to that powerfully built body until they were both thoroughly spent and gasping for air. It would be easy now that Shiro had allowed Keith to tie him to his own bed... 

He took one bare finger and dipped it into the band of Shiro’s pants, slowly teasing it around the edge of the elastic, skimming his way around Shiro’s toned waist and pulling it away from the skin as he arrived in the area of Shiro’s crotch. He watched it snap back against the stiff white hairs below Shiro’s navel when he let go, feeling the man’s shudder carry through his folded legs as if it were his own and as Shiro shifted beneath him once again, Keith’s teeth sank deeper into his own lip.

How long had it been since he had been allowed to top?

A crafty voice in the back of his head answered: _“far too long.”_

Yes, it had been way too long. The men who paid for his services wanted all the same things Shiro had wanted so far—someone to fuck, someone to take it all in, someone who would let them run their greedy, filthy hands all over and with one look at Keith’s lithe, toned body, the fuse that fed the fire was lit.

Yes, Shiro had said tonight was Keith’s. Tonight, he could satisfy his _own_ pent-up urges, each and every one.

He unzipped Shiro’s pants and ran his palm over the hardening shaft.

Shiro did say everything was negotiable...

He grabbed Shiro’s cock in his bare fingers and squeezed, his own lower half twitching and dripping in anticipation as Shiro let out a throaty moan, his face turning slightly into the pillow as his thick eyebrows contracted. Keith watched those handsome features twist with sudden need as Keith’s un-gloved fingers slowly crept down towards the place he wanted to explore most...

He tore off Shiro’s pants and searched his own pockets for a condom. When he found it, he climbed back aboard Shiro’s fully naked body and worked at its plastic covering.

_“I trust you, Keith.”_

His fingers stilled on the wrapper.

 _“Let’s just keep our relationship a professional one, okay? For_ both _our sakes.”_

He stopped.

Something sharp and metallic hit his tongue and it took him a moment to recognize the salty taste of his own blood. The freshly indented bite on his lip had torn open and when he looked up to see if Shiro had noticed anything, he found the man’s image smeared into a soft blur. Tears cascaded down his cheeks.

He couldn’t do it.

Shiro trusted him and he couldn’t do it.

Stirring at the loss of contact, Shiro shifted beneath him.

“Keith?”

He opened his eyes to see Keith rolling the condom onto Shiro’s own thick, dark shaft, squeezing a handful of lube onto the tip and applying some to his own backside. His silvery-gray eyes widened as Keith quietly climbed on top and began to position himself just right.

“Keith—!”

His voice ended in a choked cry as Keith sat down _hard_ without any hint of a warning, impaling himself upon Shiro’s thick cock with barely any preparation beforehand and began applying his lube-smeared hand to his own erection.

“Shiro,” Keith gasped, rapidly blinking to clear the tears out of his eyes. “Shiro...!”

Had Shiro noticed anything? Would he think the tears were from what Keith had done to himself?

He rubbed his hand up and down his own shaft and tilted his head back to let out a low moan.

It hurt. 

He didn’t have time to prep himself tonight and Shiro had been unable to because of what Keith had done to him. But if it made Shiro feel good—if it made _Shiro_ feel good...!

He lifted himself back up on trembling legs, feeling that thickness leave his body with almost a sigh of relief, but before he could fully relax all the way back to how he usually was, he applied more lube to his own entrance and sat back down. He watched with bleary satisfaction as Shiro lurched forward and the red silk rope above his head grew taut.

“Keith...!!”

His mouth fell open in an audible pant.

“ _Fuck!_ What—”

He stopped talking immediately as Keith raised his body almost halfway onto his rug-burned knees and sat back down again, his shout echoing Keith’s sharp cry as the man’s body tightened around his.

Keith was tight, he knew he was. The small amount of lube he managed to apply to his own entrance was barely sufficient to allow someone of Shiro’s considerable girth to slide in but he didn’t care. He could make it feel good for himself as the night wore on. He knew how to deal with this. Pleasing Shiro was the only thing that mattered right now and no matter how much pain Keith was in at the moment, no matter how sore he was going to be in the morning, he wanted to give Shiro something to remember him by. He squeezed and was rewarded with another half-shouted swear along accompanied by an abrupt strain against his own body. He leaned forward to change the angle.

“Is this what you wanted, Shiro?”

He slicked his hand up and down his own sweaty stomach and abs and started playing with himself as Shiro watched.

“Does it feel good?”

He slammed his hips downward and his only answer was a gasp that sounded like Keith’s name. He continued, pumping his own shaft in time with the movement of his hips, bouncing slightly in Shiro’s lap as his powerful client pulled at his velvety restraints. Keith licked his lips and ran his free fingers over the lines of his own wiry muscles, touching everywhere that Shiro could not.  
“You little tease,” Shiro hissed, sweat beading on his brow as he strained against his bonds. His silver eyes flashed dangerously above his grin. “You’re so fucking—!”  
“Hot?” Keith finished for him, dragging the fingertip he’d just been sucking on out of his own mouth. He leered at Shiro. “Damn right, I am.”

He ground his lower body harder against Shiro’s, riding him harder and harder and harder until he could feel the pressure building in his own groin. He was going to give Shiro the show of his life—make sure he never forgot one single curve of his body. No man could ever satisfy him the way Shiro had—ever again—and if he wanted to keep those memories of Shiro for as long as he lived, he needed to give as good as he got. He ground his ass harder and pumped himself in time with his movements until he came hard in his own hand with a strangled yell, Shiro following shortly afterward with a violent heave of his lower body.

* * *

He made Shiro come twice more over the course of the night, telling him with his body everything that he couldn’t say with his words. Shiro was sure to sleep well tonight.  
Keith had made sure of it.

He checked his watch. It was close to three am. The figure lying in the bed was fast asleep, snoozing peacefully like a living being and as Keith finished gathering the remainder of his things, he approached. Shiro looked so beautiful, so relaxed in the dim greenish glow of the digital clock nearby, his white hair shining like a layer of freshly fallen snow against the dark gray folds of his plush pillows and cushions. Keith smiled as he watched that broad chest lift up and down beneath the mechanical hand, the coverings around his scarred ribs slipping just a fraction lower as he breathed slowly and easily. As if sensing Keith’s presence, Shiro twitched. The young man stepped back as Shiro groaned in his sleep and shifted slightly towards the empty side— _Keith’s side_ —of the bed and Keith’s grip tightened around his phone.

He wanted to smooth the hair from Shiro’s handsome face, brush his thumb over that scarred nose one more time but stopped himself from touching him, lest he wake the man before he left. But his fingers were already reaching out towards Shiro’s cheek… So he took off his left glove and bent forward.

Keith placed his uncovered palm over Shiro’s half-parted lips, a subtle shiver rolling through his body as his fingers ghosted over a patch of freshly grown stubble. How could it be that Shiro’s lips were softer than they’d looked? When Keith had looked at them a hundred million times before and wished to press his mouth against Shiro’s if only to feel that warmth one more time? They were darkened and pliable and slightly chapped against Keith’s bare skin and his heart raced in his chest as he felt the air streaming out from Shiro’s slightly open mouth. Closing his eyes, Keith leaned in.

He pressed a kiss to the back of his own hand, keeping his own hand between them like he had on the night they first met, even now completely unable to break a promise he didn’t quite make.

What would it have been like if they’d met under different circumstances, in a different life? Would the Keith Kogane in another universe be brave enough to confess his feelings, to bare his heart to the one he loved and overcome that overwhelming fear of heartbreak that seemed to follow him like a curse? Or would he be as cowardly as the one standing here at a sleeping man’s side, unable to speak the words in his heart and stealing a memory in the dark as he ran? 

He took his hand away and turned around.

“Goodbye, Shiro.”

His eyes were dry.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!!! This was the worst writer's block I've had in ages. It sucked knowing I had the plot for the next two chapters written out but couldn't get the right prose or feel D:  
> IT'S NOT OVER GUYS. I'm angling for a happy-ish ending for these two and we are still barely 1/3 of the way into the story. So I hope that softens the blow a little...!
> 
> Thanks so so so much for sticking with me and I REALLY hope you liked it!  
> I feel like I hit a milestone with this fic. I haven't gotten this many comments or subscriptions on anything EVER and I am really floored by the response I've been getting.
> 
> If you wanna cry as hard as I did over these two, please comment or message me on Tumblr so we can cry together!


	9. Jeith/Jaith. Semi-Public sex + Against a wall sex + Frottage (in that order)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19.1 Semi-Public sex + Day 27. Against a wall + Day 16. Frottage (in that order)  
> Hope you guys like...
> 
> *Keith Kogane x James Griffin!!*
> 
> Cuz I sure do!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, welcome back! Thanks again for your amazing support and encouragement!
> 
> I've been reading and re-reading the comments from the last chap and, fam...  
> They just really brightened up my day--no, my whole WEEK and it's only thanks to all of you that this fic is still possible.  
> I'm eternally grateful for my readers and if I could hug each one of the readers/commenters (if it's ok w u), I would.  
> Thank you <33333
> 
> I struggled a little with this chap, not gonna lie... but big thanks to everyone who replied on tumblr or discord!  
> The Jeith/Jaith chapter is here~~~  
> I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it. <3

UPDATE: Tags have been updated to include the ENTIRE fic thus far, including later characters/plot points to be introduced. 

*also this is JEITH/JAITH chapter. Please take note. Thanks!

* * *

“Fuck— _shit—!!_ Holy fuck— _Keith!_ ”

Ignoring the blasphemous noises just a few feet above him, Keith continued his ministrations, taking the head further into his mouth and furiously working the accompanying shaft with his hand, pumping rhythmically as he bobbed his head up and down. His knees were still sore and scraped from the rug burn he’d obtained several nights ago and the linoleum tiles were cold and hard against his bones but it didn’t bother him so much that he couldn’t keep going. He gave one final suck and James Griffin came _hard_ into his mouth, gasping for breath with fingers twisted painfully into Keith’s hair and knuckles going white against the shoulder of Keith’s signature red jacket. He let go with a loud wet pop, giving James the space he needed to breathe and enough room to remove his condom in their cramped, darkened corner between the shelves of the small college library.

“Holy shit,” James panted, slumping back against the dusty shelves with his hand over his eyes and his knees slowly giving way beneath him. “ _Holy fucking shit._ ”

“You said that already,” Keith mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before putting his finger-less black glove back on. 

He sat there and watched as James tried to collect himself, the corners of Keith’s mouth dropping from a flat line into a subtle frown as his most recent client put his hand on the wrong book and sent an old leather-bound encyclopedia tumbling to the ground, its cracked and yellow pages flying open as it landed with a painful thud on its broad, heavy spine. As James stumbled forward to retrieve it, he stepped on the untied shoelace that had come loose earlier, when Keith had walked him back between the dark, narrow shelves to a place beneath a broken fluorescent light, and he almost tripped when he finally managed to scoop the old volume into his hands. Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” James said quietly, his ears and face looking pink as he turned to shoot Keith subtle look over his denim-clad shoulder.

 _And you’re still basically the same,_ Keith thought to himself as James slid the book back onto the shelf and finally started cleaning himself up. God, it was almost like James _wanted_ to get caught, cleaning himself up this slowly with his pants around his ankles while people were studying with their headphones in not twenty yards away from the end of their aisle.

Really, it was a good thing Keith had been doing this long enough to know of a few quiet places on campus where he could discreetly carry out his business. He wasn’t particularly fond of being seen in public with James Griffin as it was (they hadn’t exactly gotten along in high school), and even less fond of the idea of getting caught and possibly thrown out of the community college due to a poorly timed exchange of goods and services.

James must have been seriously horny, calling Keith in the middle of the afternoon so that they could take part in another one of their hastily organized “exchanges.” The call, not text, _actual phone call_ had come right after Keith and most of the other students had gotten out of their noontime classes, just as another wave of students was heading back onto campus for the afternoon—in other words the busiest time of day. Watching the advanced calculus TA clean himself up in the dark with only a few thin tissues and a plastic bag scrunched up between his fumbling fingers, Keith half thought about helping James out if only to get them both out of here that much faster.

Keith sighed as James finally zipped up his pants.

“Thanks, I guess?”

It was only natural that he’d gotten better at this. He had, after all, spent a fair amount of time with Shiro’s cock in his mouth and he’d been _very_ keen to please the man...

At the memory of Shiro, a familiar ache flared to life in his chest once again and his knees throbbed accordingly as he slowly got to his feet, forsaking the outstretched hand James had been holding out to him and using instead the sturdy shelves full of books behind him to support his weight. He ignored the somewhat slighted look on James’ face and pulled out his cell phone as it suddenly buzzed to life with only a single mysterious notification popping up on its otherwise blank screen.

 _Sender Unknown_.

He deleted the message without even opening it.

Even though he’d left the way he had that night, the messages kept coming. Day after day, texts with meeting times in the later evening sent by unknown numbers would show up in his phone, just like they usually did, as if nothing had changed between them at all.

Texts, and never calls.

But that wasn’t unusual, this was how Shiro typically communicated with Keith and Keith had made no mention of preferring phone calls instead. And besides... Even if Shiro did call, Keith wasn’t going to answer. He couldn’t.

Interesting then, that James had called...

“You know, there’s probably a better way to do this,” James mumbled as he pulled out a tiny orange USB drive on gray and orange lanyard and held it out to Keith, the community college’s logo glinting brightly on its shiny metal surface.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, taking it from him and stuffing it into a hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. His phone buzzed quietly by his hand again and he silenced it with an instinctive tap of his finger.

“I mean...”

He glanced up to see James chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek, restlessly combing his long fingers through the locks of his shiny brown hair as he glanced up at Keith with blue-gray eyes the color of rain-washed slate. His cheeks were flushed a bright tomato red.

“Let me take you out to dinner sometime. I really like you, Keith and I want to get to know you better. If there’s anything you need help with, you can just ask...”

His shoulders slumped, his typically proud posture collapsing into something much less guarded for a second, and for that brief moment, Keith felt the slightest of tugs at his heartstrings. 

But only for a second.

His phone buzzed again and his finger went automatically to the button to silence it.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled. 

He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and walked away.

* * *

“I have a lead.”

Hunk and Lance exchanged a glance and bent down so that they could see the picture on Pidge’s monitor. Lance squinted at the image of the nearly decapitated man they’d found several nights ago and turned to her with a blank look on his face.

“Yeah, I don’t see it.”

“Ugh, never mind.” Pidge scowled and turned her attention to Hunk. “You see what I’m talking about, right?”

“Uh, that’s a negative, Pidge,” he said sheepishly, face looking slightly green as he glanced hesitantly at the man with the blackened wound, highlighted in high contrast on her screen. “I just see the same thing I tried not to look at too hard way back then.”

He made an odd swallowing sound, as if he was trying to contain the bile rising up from his stomach and groaned nauseously. He eyed the empty but greasy pizza box that sat two feet from their monitor and clutched at his stomach with a grimace, as if regretting the decision to stay late with his two team members and order delivery as they sorted through the information they’d gathered so far in the quiet security of Allura’s office. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to help us out.”

Pidge rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen, mumbling under her breath about the “idiots” she was “forced to work with” and bemoaning the fact that Allura wasn’t here with them tonight because she would definitely see what Pidge was trying to show “these two numbskulls.” With a few more clicks of the mouse, she enhanced the image even further, tweaking the settings and highlighting parts of the digitized photograph until a little square popped up in the middle of the monitor, centering itself around a strange little mark on what was left of the man’s nearly obliterated neck. She plugged in her tablet, set it carefully onto its back and clicked a button. At once, a hologram beamed out of the tablet’s image generator, stabilizing itself after a few brief flickers and rendering a pale, three-dimensional image that shone faintly blue in the gloom of the darkened office.

A distinct shape glowed before them, composed of an equilateral triangle superimposed on top of a diamond-like shape, the borders inked in heavy black lines fading away into shadow where the flesh was burned away from the area of the carotid arteries. Lance and Hunk’s jaws dropped open.

“I found this mark on one of the men in the hallway,” Pidge explained, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her button nose as Lance and Hunk goggled at the hologram on her desk. “Do either of you recognize it? Cuz you should...”

“That’s the mark of a Beta Traz hitman!” Lance yelped. “Pidge, you’re a genius! How did you even see this? There was like, nothing left of the guy’s neck! Of _any_ of their necks! Everything was burned or cauterized or _something—!_ ”

“Well, thanks to your new high-resolution camera,” Pidge mumbled, adjusting her glasses again as her cheeks colored slightly, “I was able to pick up an irregularity in the pixelated image and when I ran it through the digitizing program a few more times—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, enough of your nerd talk,” Lance interrupted, much to her annoyance, “We gotta get this to Allura, this is huge!”

As he picked up his work phone and rapidly dialed Allura’s cell, Hunk wrinkled his thick eyebrows and bent forward to examine the image as well.

“Beta Traz...” he mumbled, rubbing his chin in thought. “Weren’t they one of the splinter groups that broke off of the Galra Coalition after Zarkon’s death? I thought they used specially made revolvers, you know, the ones that have the trigger set to electrical impulses so that they can fire about as quickly as a human eye can blink?”

When only Pidge but not Lance nodded sagely in response, Hunk’s expression morphed into one of irritation that matched Pidge’s almost exactly as he looked at Lance and he gesticulated robotically with his hands as he proceeded to explain about how his department had tested the weapons and found them completely unusable and had to resort to stock footage obtained from an agent stationed undercover in the Beta Traz group in order to find out how they worked.

“So what you’re trying to tell me,” Lance mulled aloud, scratching his head, “Is that whoever these three guys were trying to get... was fast enough to dodge a hurricane of crazy fast bullets, then slice all their necks wide open... and all of this _after_ going in and completing a _perfect_ hit job on whoever the original target was all under the span of...?”

“No more than ten minutes, judging by the time of death Coran gave us on each individual body,” Pidge replied darkly.

“What do we know about the weapon?” Lance asked, turning to the largest man in the room.

Hunk’s shoulders slumped.

“Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Uh, Pidge, may I?”

Shrugging casually, Pidge scooted back in her small, black, comfort-molded wheeled chair, pushing off by the balls of her feet so that she took off like a miniature rocket across the rubber flooring until she squeaked to a stop upon Lance’s feet, instantly wiping the love-struck look from his face as he mooned over the incoming text message from Allura that she had gotten the call and was coming in shortly.

“Ouch! Pidge!”

“Sorry,” she chirped, keeping her eyes locked on Hunk as he fumbled in his pockets for a USB drive and quickly plugged it in when he finally found what he was looking for.

At once, a series of vicious looking weaponry blinked to life above their heads; a circle of guns, each more svelte in design and likely more lethal than the one before rotated before them, hovering like ghosts in the gloom of Allura’s office and as Lance reached for one to try to touch it, it spun three hundred and sixty degrees before suddenly transforming into something entirely new.

“What the—”

“They’re a new series of weapons we started investigating after we took possession of that abandoned warehouse near the baseball field,” Hunk explained, waving his hand so that the circle rotated once, with the weapon Lance had “touched” making the rounds until it came back to him. 

He reached out with one half-gloved hand and curled his fingers around the handle as if he were going to hang onto the butt of the weapon. Just like before with Lance, the weapon began to shift, barrels and muzzles and handles folding in on themselves until the weapon had changed entirely and began to resemble something much more mundane. Lance and Pidge watched with wide eyes as Hunk’s hand now clutched a glowing blue hologram of a briefcase.

“I’d say this is only half the picture,” he said quietly, letting go of it and allowing it to change back into an image of a gun. “We’re still looking for whatever can cauterize wounds like the one on the guy’s neck but I’ll tell you this: if something like this exists, then I wouldn’t be surprised at all if someone found a way to make one of these into something that could burn _and_ shoot.”

* * *

Keith lay on his back in his pajamas, alone in his rickety bed in his cheap-ass apartment for maybe the third night in a row in a very long time, a good thirty-minute bus ride away from the college campus in a rather depressing-looking part of town. Rain lashed against the side of his tiny run-down studio in waves, reducing the entirety of the window above his bed to a cement colored square in an apartment that was nothing more than blank, cracked walls, scruffy stained carpets and cold uneven tiles.

It was a far cry from the warmth of Shiro’s penthouse suite, but for six hundred dollars a month, he had been more than willing to put up with it given his limited source of income. He heard the steady dripping of water from the single leak on the ceiling and sighed, making a mental note to ask the manager to do something about it— _again_. The manager was a lazy person and tended to be asleep at their desk whenever Keith came by to ask for something fixed and was so slow on the repairs that Keith often had to take matters into his own hands. Unfortunately, the duct tape was wearing out and he couldn’t be bothered to place another pot under the leak right now, so he just burrowed himself deeper into his covers and scowled.

He stared at the phone in his hand, at the single notification that had just popped up on his glowing lock screen and breathed a heavy sigh. He placed it face down at his side and brought his knees to his chest, curling up underneath his covers and trying, unsuccessfully, both literally and figuratively, to put the memories of the night he’d left Shiro behind him.

It had been the single loneliest night he’d ever spent in recent memory.

That night, at about three in the morning, he’d stepped out of the elevators into the sparkling lobby, for what he hoped would be the last time. He ducked his head to avoid the gaze of the keen-eyed receptionist as he passed by the front desk, putting on his hood and throwing his backpack over his head as he jogged past the gilded automatic doors and out into the cold, drizzling night.

The cab driver, an odd reedy-looking man in his late sixties, was friendly enough, jabbering on and on and on about quiz shows (“It’s called Garfle, Warfle, Snik! You have to watch it, young man. It’s the funniest thing since rubber chickens—”) and the places he would like to visit if he ever got the chance, filling up the strained, gloomy silence that was starting to settle in around Keith like an invisible shroud and even going so far as to laugh at his own jokes. When Keith didn’t respond to any of his antics, he offered to introduce him to his granddaughter. Surely she would love to go out on a date with such a nice, handsome young man—Keith had slammed the door behind him before the man could even finish talking and only turned around so that he could shove a reasonable amount of tip money through the driver’s open window. Only when he was safe inside his apartment walls did he allow himself to collapse in a heap upon the cold, fitted sheets of his own bed, feeling more alone than he had since the day of his father’s death several years ago.

Until now.

He reached for his device to delete the incoming message as his phone buzzed once again.

He’d deleted Shiro’s number off his phone as soon as he’d made it home that night. Not that it mattered. Shiro’s number changed so frequently that this was more of a formality than anything else. No matter what card Shiro would leave for Keith in the morning, the number that appeared on his home screen would always read as “Unknown Sender” or even sometimes just a random assortment of numbers whose area codes had nothing to do with one another. Once, on a whim, Keith had actually texted back and gotten an automatic reply from the server indicating that the number had already been disconnected. So when the messages started coming again as they did before, Keith just erased them without even checking the contents. 

Because he had to.

If he opened up even one of the messages at a time he was feeling particularly lonely and vulnerable, he might feel tempted to go back. And if he went back again, back to that warm embrace, to the man who called him “baby” with such affection in his voice and to those large wandering hands that left Keith’s heart and body wanting more than that man could give, Keith wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to walk away on his own again.

And then Shiro would leave. 

Leave for good at the end of the week when whatever business he had in this lackluster little city was completed and leave Keith broken and pining for the rest of his life.  
The phone buzzed again and he pushed it away.

No. If he went back now, after he’d made the decision to cut things off and pick up the pieces of his heart while they were still large enough to put together, he would never get over Shiro. He had to do what he could to try to get over the man and get his life back together as quickly as possible. 

His stomach growled and at once, he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything other than the remnants of that granola bar hanging out at the bottom of his backpack...

He picked up the phone and dialed James’ number.

* * *

“I really didn’t think you’d call me so soon,” James laughed as they walked back to Keith’s apartment, just a stone’s throw away from the pizza place they went to for dinner. He ran a hand through his own hair and cleared his throat nervously. “Actually, I didn’t think you’d even call me at all...”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Keith asked absentmindedly, shooting his companion a sidelong glance. 

James wasn’t bad-looking, exactly. Quite the opposite. He’d caught a few people shooting them covetous looks from across the room, some directed at James and others at Keith. Either way, most of them really stood no chance. Keith knew people found him attractive even when he was wearing nothing more than sweats and a graphic T-shirt (although tonight he’d decided in favor of his usual red jacket and black jeans) but next to him James was cutting a rather impressive figure in his jean jacket, clean white shirt and artfully slicked back brown hair. 

James faltered.

“Uh, well... You’ve kind of earned a sort of reputation for yourself over the years,” he mumbled, looking down at a patch of dirt on his brand new sneakers. “...And I’m really sorry to have contributed to that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith replied, patting his blessedly full stomach. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem.”

They walked the rest of the way to Keith’s building in silence, James ruminating on sins long since atoned for (he _was_ helping Keith pass his classes after all) and Keith wondering whether or not he’d forgotten something earlier this week. The fog that had been permeating his brain was finally lifting. Before long, they were at the front door of the shabby old apartment building, staring up at its graying facade with pensive expressions.

“Well, this is me. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“...Sure.”

Keith had just slipped the key into the door and unlocked it with a rattling click when James suddenly called out to him.

“Keith, wait.”

He turned around to see James looking unusually sheepish, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his foot tapping restlessly on the ground. Keith suddenly remembered that this had actually been a date.

“Can I kiss you?”

Keith blinked. His lips parted and a single word slipped out.

“...kiss?”

At once, the memory came flooding back: his hand over Shiro’s mouth. Keith stealing a shadow of a kiss from a sleeping man’s lips in the dark. The front door clicking shut with an echo of finality. Keith walking alone down a long, empty stretch of hallway, eyes dry, staring unwaveringly ahead as he left the his unrequited love behind in the penthouse suite.

Something burned in his throat and suddenly the thought of going back to his deserted apartment, back to spending the night alone in his tiny, empty bed in a cold little room, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as the weak light of another joyless dawn filtered through the blinds—

He swallowed.

It was completely and utterly _unbearable._

He grabbed James by the lapels of his acid-washed jean jacket and yanked him in, slamming his mouth against James’ in a fierce, _desperate_ kiss.

For a split second, there was a muffled noise of surprise but then James was kissing him _back_ , all teeth and tongue and barely a trace of finesse but it was exactly what Keith needed at the moment; he opened his mouth and let James in, giving as good as he got. His fingers fumbled for the knob of the front door and they crashed into the front lobby, Keith’s back hitting the grubby carpet with a solid thud and James falling on top of him with a surprised “oof.” He quickly pulled James in for one more quick, sloppy kiss and then they were both on their feet, Keith sprinting for the elevators with James following close behind.

As if it had been waiting for them all along, the elevator doors pinged open and he dragged James in after him before the doors could fully open, forcefully pushing his date back against the steel walls and shoving his hand up the man’s soft cotton tee. James’ lips were soft, _beautifully soft_ , and he tasted like vanilla chapstick and the tang of cherry soda and something that was definitely, uniquely _James_. Keith ran his tongue over those lips, eager to probe in further for more.

Shiro wouldn’t taste like this. Shiro could never taste like this. He was the kind of man who wore the air of mystery about him like a perfectly tailored suit and had to have a complexity that rivaled even the finest of aged wines. 

He didn’t even realize he was searching for something he would never find until James pushed him back with a shallow gasp and signaled that he needed a moment to _breathe_.

The doors pinged open one more time and then they were on Keith’s floor, racing breathlessly down the empty hallway and Keith even laughing a little as he watched James dodge a couple of delivery packages on their way to Keith’s door. 

Fire pumped through his veins and shone bright in the depths of his indigo eyes as James pushed him back against the door of his own apartment, forcing his mouth upon Keith’s one more time and groaning in surprise as Keith sucked on his tongue.

“God, Keith,” he panted as Keith rutted brazenly against his denim-covered thigh. “You’re making it really hard for me to hold back, you know that?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” Keith gasped, pulling his date back in for yet another passionate kiss. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of James’ cologne, letting the unfamiliar fragrance wash over him in waves and carry him away to a place where the lights were low and the man in his arms was another.

_“Keith...”_

Hands reached up under his jacket and peeled it from his shoulders. He parted his lips and allowed that wandering tongue to probe its way back inside his mouth, letting it go wherever it would and shivering when it slid gently against his own. His fingers bunched up against a thin cotton T-shirt, roughened denim scratching at the backs of his hands where his gloves had been cut open and his eyebrows abruptly creased and drew themselves closer together as the hand that crawled over his abdomen suddenly felt too small. He opened his eyes to see James staring at him with a questioning look in his slate-colored eyes and he turned away at once so that he could jam his key into the lock and wrench open his own door.

He threw off his shirt as soon as they were inside, not even bothering with the lights as the door swung closed on its creaking hinges and immediately went back to James’ lips, biting and sucking on the lower lip as James tore off his own jacket and hurled it on the floor. He could feel James’ erection against his, even through the thick fabric of James’ jeans and he unzipped them at once so that he could shove a single hand down those tight pants, relishing the moan that puffed against his lips as he gave the man a good, firm squeeze.

“Keith...!”

He detached his mouth from James’ with a subtle drag of teeth against lips and latched onto the man’s earlobe instead, tugging and sucking at the softened flesh until he felt his date’s knees go weak and his footing grow unsteady. They fell back against the uncovered wall behind them, James’ back pressed flush against the dusty layer of paint as Keith’s relentless assault on his neck continued and he grasped Keith by the belt loops of his tattered black jeans and brought their hips together so he could grind against Keith’s lower body.

“Oh, fuck, _Keith!_ ”

“Stop talking,” Keith demanded, biting into James’ windpipe as the man let out a sharp hiss. “Just _stop talking._ ”

He lifted James’ shirt up over his chest and palmed him over the ridges of his sleek, well-toned muscles, grinding his hips meaningfully against James’ open fly as he teased at the waistband of his undone jeans.

“You wanna fuck me or not?”

James’s answer was another searing, open-mouthed kiss and he pushed Keith a good distance away, just far enough that he had room to rip his own shirt off over his head before letting Keith back into his personal space. Their jeans hit the floor in a rush of motion, their naked bodies pressed tightly together and Keith heard the moan that fell from James’ open mouth as he pushed his shaft against his date’s and rubbed until the pre-cum flowed hot and free over their combined cocks. Slick pulsed out from the tiny slits in their heads like rivulets, friction building between their shafts as they ground their bodies haphazardly together. He grabbed James’ hands and pinned them against the wall on either side of his flushed face and buried his face in the crook of his date’s neck.

They continued like this for some time, fingers laced together and hips bumping roughly against one another as they found their pace, grinding and frotting and cursing until Keith was sweaty and light-headed and finding it difficult to maintain his position, especially when James would occasionally fight him to get a little more leverage so he could get himself off. He was just about to suggest moving things over to the bed when the light from his half open windows shifted and the moonlight fell upon James’ eyes, washing the irises of their deeper hues until they faded into an unnaturally light _gray_.

Keith’s heart stopped cold.

_Shiro?_

In an instant, James suddenly broke free and took control. He seized Keith about his narrow hips and brought their bodies crashing together like never before, grinning as he heard the sharp gasp bursting out of Keith’s throat and taking advantage of the dark-haired man’s momentary distraction to push him backwards towards his own bed.

They hit the sheets in a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies, James’ carefully styled hair mussed and falling over his face in a cascade of hazelnut bangs as he leaned over Keith and Keith felt his breath catch in his throat as James turned those slate-colored eyes upon him once again. He dragged his thumb over the ridge of Keith’s finely carved cheekbone and when Keith closed his eyes, he could almost hear his name being called in the voice of another.

_“Keith...”_

He felt James dive forward for yet another kiss and continued to keep his eyes shut, squeezing his lids together and grabbing a fistful of those long, sweaty locks when he opened his mouth again. With his eyes closed and the rest of his body fully occupied, he could almost imagine that the body on top of his weighed more than it did, smelled better than it should, wanted all the same things he did and maybe even more.

“Keith,” James panted above him, the base of his hardened shaft dragging against Keith’s stomach and leaving a thin, wet trail across his abdomen. He shifted his body so that they were pressed together more tightly than before and at the sudden change in pressure, Keith threw back his head and cried out.

“I’m almost—ugh—I think I’m—!”

He came with a hoarse gasp and collapsed on top of Keith’s body, knocking the air out of his partner and breaking him out of his daze at last. He blinked, indigo eyes wide and staring over the rise of Jame’s freckled shoulder and gazed at the bars of moonlight slanting across the walls, still painfully hard beneath the weight of James’ athletic body.

He pushed the exhausted James off himself with a labored grunt and sat up to run a hand through his own messy hair, breathing hard. Next to him, James lay upon his back, trailing his hand down the curve of Keith’s spine as he watched his partner carefully.

“You can use me, you know,” James mumbled after a pause, continuing to stroke the smooth skin of Keith’s back as he considered his own words. “I’m okay with it.”

He turned onto his stomach and looked at Keith with thoughtful blue-gray eyes.

“You didn’t come, right? I’d like you to.”

Keith’s throat went dry. 

It was the kind of consideration Shiro had always shown him. 

He swallowed.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

He smiled and turned his face back into the pillows. His shoulders relaxed.

“I trust you...”

 _You shouldn’t,_ Keith wanted to say, _You really shouldn’t._

But instead he reached over to his nightstand and plucked out a packet of lube. He coated his fingers in it and rubbed them lightly over James’ entrance. He heard the sharp intake of breath from his partner’s mouth, muffled as it was and watched those slim shoulders tense, relaxing only when the liquid was warmed up between his cheeks and tensing again when Keith slipped a single digit in.

Keith bit his lip.

He was so hard and James was so tight. He was still leaking and wired and bristling with the kind of impatience that was caused only by a break in momentum and he felt James contract around his fingers when he pushed the second one in. He waited only until James had relaxed _enough_ , then immediatley put the third one in, pumping his fingers in just a few times when he heard the expected noise before pulling it all out entirely. He was positioning himself between those quivering thighs, already looking forward to that final release when his phone abruptly rang.  
James looked over his shoulder at him and Keith shrugged in response. They waited for it to go to voicemail before Keith tried again.

He was about to start pushing his way in when the phone rang _again._

“Ignore it,” he growled and pressed the tip of his cock against James’ entrance, taking his own advice and trying to concentrate as the phone continued to ring.

“I think you should get that,” James said crossly, looking over his shoulder at Keith with sharp blue-gray eyes. “Might be important.”

“Are you serious right now?” Keith exclaimed, letting go of James’ ass as his partner turned himself over in Keith’s bed.

“Uh. Yeah. I am.” James frowned. “Go get it.”

Griping and cursing as he threw himself off the bed, Keith stalked over to his jacket and wrenched the offending device out of his pocket.

“ _What?!_ ” he barked into the mic.

“Keith Kogane, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Romelle’s shrill voice blasted into his ear. “Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your messages?!”

Before he could answer, he though he heard something that sounded like a slow gasp of realization followed by a sharp squawk of indignation. He held the phone away from his ear as another burst of sound crackled out of the receiver.

“Wait a minute...! Are you at your night job again?! You cannot be serious right now! I thought you said you quit!”

“ _I did_ ,” Keith ground out, slapping a hand over his face as Romelle continued to jabber angrily in the background. “Look, can’t this wait until morning? I’m kinda busy here.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at the man lying naked in his bed, a man who looked like he was already starting to get bored and beginning to consider leaving for the night.

“Oh, you’re _busy_ ,” Romelle shot back. “In that case, why don’t you tell James I said hi? I hope you had a good time on your date, considering how you blew off our study session this afternoon in favor of a little—”

“Wait a minute, how did you know—?!”

“You were seen, genius. You do realize you’re not the only student who likes to get pizza at Vrepit Sal’s this late at night?”

Keith’s hand slid over his face and he groaned. He heard Romelle’s weary sigh and he turned to give James an apologetic look over his shoulder. James raised his eyebrows.

“Look, I’ll help you keep your secret,” Romelle said quietly. He could almost see her rubbing her temples as she spoke. “You getting help from James Griffin isn’t technically illegal, given how he’s not even a TA from your department and I need those practice exams too. So, I’ll help. But you promise me you don’t blow off another of our study sessions ever again—AND—you bring me my notebook right now so I can catch up on my last languages class okay?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll even make it easy for you.”

A pebble hit the glass of Keith’s window and he looked up with a start.

“I’m outside.”

* * *

“You better have a homework assignment due tomorrow,” Keith groused as he met her on the doorstep of his building. His pants were still feeling uncomfortably tight but thankfully, James had decided to continue to wait for him upstairs. He dropped his backpack on the ground and started searching through it.

“I do and I’ve got twelve hours to turn it in,” Romelle chirped, strolling forward, hands enfolded in the warmth of her oversized hoodie. She reached out with her palms up, a big fat grin on her face. “How was your date?”

“Not technically over, so you better leave after I give you your notes,” Keith mumbled as he dug through the contents of his backpack.

“You got it, bud,” she drawled, looking uncomfortably smug. Her smirk dropped off her face as Keith’s hands stilled in his backpack and her eyes widened with his as he looked up at her with an expression of abject horror.

“It’s not here.”

He hadn’t taken anything out of his backpack in several days. There was no way in hell that was still in his apartment. Which could only mean...

Romelle’s left eye twitched.

“Say that again?” she asked sweetly, a manic edge to her voice as she repeated the “palm-out” gesture.

“I don’t have your notebook,” Keith repeated, slowly getting to his feet as Romelle’s smile began to look more and more unnerving. “I must have left it at Shiro’s—I mean, at work on the day I left.”

“I see.”

For the second time that night, he found his back pressed against the wall of his own apartment building, only this time, it was Romelle who was bearing down on him with the terrifying expression of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

“Keith Kogane.”

Romelle’s eyes burned bright like purple wildfire and her lips stretched ear to ear in an objectively horrifying grin.

“You get me that notebook. Or I will personally feed you to the wolves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIRO'S COMING BACK NEXT CHAP HELL YAAAAAAAAAAAAH
> 
> It's a strange and difficult time to be a content creator online and an nsfw content creator too at that.  
> But I am STILL going to be active as patchwork-panda on Tumblr (cuz I'm old and I don't like changing platforms blahh)  
> However, if you want to be able to talk to me somewhere else?  
> I am @scrap_tin_panda on Discord #8843  
> I am @UrsaMinorKey on Twitter. I'll be posting updates and cosplay pics there if you like that sort of thing. :)  
> But you can always leave a comment below and I will 200% respond to each and every one.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! You're all amazing :,DDDD
> 
> UPDATE: SERIOUS question guys.  
> I have major plot points I'm planning to bring in. Like some kinks I've decided on and some parts that have been partially written out.  
> DO I TAG EVERYTHING IN ADVANCE?? EVEN IF IT MEANS SPOILING PEOPLE WHO DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED???


	10. Vanilla sex (blowjob, some nipple play, missionary sex, minor hints of overstimulation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanilla sex (blow job, some nipple play, missionary, minor hints of overstimulation).  
> Fluff/romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest thing I've ever had to write. Writers block for almost 2 straight weeks, work-related stress and then s8 drops and everything goes to shit. Never been so stressed over something that was fandom-related. Urgh...
> 
> But there were people out there who gave me hope, and encouraged me to keep writing and that kept me going even though it was so tough to do.  
> Special thanks to everyone in my Discord server who talked to me, salted with me and basically kept me sane throughout the last week and a half.  
> And to my readers: You guys are the best. Thank you.

It wasn’t in his apartment.

And he’d checked twice just to be safe.

Immediately following his short meeting with Romelle, Keith had hastily pushed James out of the building and turned his apartment upside down at once, searching every nook and cranny of the tiny space for Romelle’s hot pink languages notebook and almost injuring himself a few times in the process. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.

Which could only mean one thing...

Keith gritted his teeth and scrolled through his phone for the cab company’s number.

He had to go back to Shiro’s room to retrieve it.

* * *

* * *

Half a day later, with the skies overhead churning with the promise of rain, Keith stepped back into the hilltop hotel’s expansive lobby and cast his blue-gray eyes around the room. With its glassy, polished walls and tastefully modern décor, the lobby looked exactly the same as it did the night he left and he nodded briskly to the receptionist at the main desk as he passed by her station, the tall sprays of pale purple flowers around her name plate neatly obscuring her face from view.

He’d rehearsed his plans over and over as he sat quietly in the back of the cab and it was still fresh in his head as he made his way over to the gilded elevator doors. He pulled out the key card to Shiro’s room and scanned it in, taking a deep breath in to steady himself as the doors silently slid open.

All he had to do was go in, grab the notebook from the kitchen table, where he was sure he’d left it sitting last, and get out. Simple enough. If everything went according to plan, he would be meeting Romelle at the cafe within the next hour and have an apology latte on the table ready and waiting for her when she walked in. Hopefully the sight of her favorite drink accompanied by her nearly completed assignment would help her forget the plans she’d already formulated for how best to hide Keith’s mutilated corpse.

He stepped through the doors and pushed the button for the penthouse suite, so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the sharp-eyed receptionist pulling out a hidden phone from beneath the front counter and dialing a number from a very familiar card.

* * *

* * *

“It’s not here...?”

The cushion he was holding fell to the floor and he dropped to his knees in shock.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

How could it not be here? He’d already checked his apartment and called the cafe and it was only during the process of frantically turning his backpack inside out that he’d even been able to locate the sleek black card to Shiro’s hotel room, which he’d miraculously not thrown out or burned several nights ago. Now that he’d gone through the penthouse kitchen and living area twice, he was running out of ideas on where to look next. He ran a half-gloved hand through his sweaty black hair and took a rather heavy seat on the couch, opposite the silver lion statuette sitting placidly by the television set. He fixed it with a mournful stare.

“You haven’t seen it, have you?” he asked.

But the lion remained silent and Keith groaned, letting his head fall into his hands.

He’d lost his mind. It was the only explanation he had. Not only had he gone out on a date with James Griffin last night, he’d taken the man into his bedroom and done things with him that he probably wouldn’t have even considered at the beginning of the semester. Now here he was, sitting in the fanciest room of the fanciest hotel he’d ever been in—the room of a man he’d fallen in love with and was desperately trying to forget—talking to a lion statue about a notebook he couldn’t remember seeing for the past several days.

Keith groaned again.

If the notebook wasn’t here, then where the _quiznak_ could it be? He was sure that he’d left it in Shiro’s hotel room somewhere...

Somewhere...

There _was_ one place he had yet to check...

Slowly, as if he were being guided by an unknown force, his eyes were pulled to the closed door at the end of the long, dark hall.

The door to Shiro’s bedroom.

Keith got to his feet.

He needed to turn around. Turn around right now and walk out of the suite forever, like he’d been planning to do the night he’d said goodbye to Shiro and left the damn notebook in here by mistake. He would use some of the money Shiro had paid him to bribe someone in Romelle's class into giving him a copy of the assignment, maybe even pay for Romelle to get an expensive tutor if she happened to fail and need to do remedial work. Hell, at this point he wasn’t even above asking James Griffin for help.

He took a couple steps forward.

He had no memory of bringing the notebook into that room. He had no memory of bringing anything into that room except his own naked body but there the memories of Keith ended while those of Shiro began, memories of silver eyes and heated touches and the warmth and scent of a scarred, sturdy body lying next to him between soft silken sheets.

He needed to forget. He needed to leave.

But his feet continued to move forward and the door grew larger and larger in his field of vision until his fingers closed around the handle and began to turn the knob.

His thoughts turned to Shiro and the way he would idly stroke Keith’s bare shoulder with his large mechanical hand. He thought about the scar across Shiro’s nose and the way it would crinkle sometimes just before he laughed. He thought about Shiro’s soft, secretive smile and the way his beautiful silver eyes seemed to shine just for Keith and Keith alone.

But it didn't mean a thing and he knew it. Shiro had asked him to keep things professional between them, a reasonable request given the circumstances under which they’d met and yet Keith had failed miserably when it came to honoring it.

He passed through the open door and his feet stopped at last.

A bare hook gleamed on the blank stretch of wall behind the king-sized bed and he blinked in surprise.

The painting of the silver lion was not there.

When he looked around, he spotted it lying against the far wall, facing away from the bed, exactly where he had left it that night.

Keith’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

Forgetting momentarily that he was supposed to be looking for Romelle’s notebook, he walked towards the painting and pulled it away from the wall, noting with crinkled eyebrows that there was already a light layer of dust gathering on its frame. Clearly no one had touched the painting for several days and as he looked back to the bed, he realized that the pillows were wrinkled and the covers had been tossed aside. The curtains to his right were half open and the exact same clothes hung in the closet as before, only now, there were more suits on the "dirty" side, stripped of their dry-clean plastic and shoved unceremoniously behind the sliding door, than on the clean side.

Keith realized with a start that no one had been allowed to clean this room in days.

He got to his feet, leaving the painting of the lion leaning against the wall and walked towards the bed, half expecting to see Shiro still lying in it as he approached. But what he saw instead was something he could have never imagined.

Romelle’s notebook was sitting on the nightstand on Shiro’s side of the bed, its pink cover illuminated an odd shade of puce by the pale green glowing numbers of the small alarm clock beside it.

“What...?”

He picked it up and flipped through it, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to piece together the events of several nights ago.

“What’s it doing here?”

This made no sense. He’d never brought the notebook into this room. This room was for—

His cell phone buzzed abruptly in his pocket and at once, he let out an embarrassingly loud yell, nearly dropping Romelle’s notebook in shock. With his heart pounding madly in his chest, Keith hastily reached for his cell phone to silence the buzzing but as he pulled it out, it pinged merrily in the way it always did when he received an unread text. But as he glanced at the screen, his eyes widened. This message wasn’t from an unknown sender or even Romelle.

It was from James Griffin.

_Hey, Keith. How are you doing?_

Keith raised an eyebrow and texted back.

_Fine, I guess._

Then as an afterthought, he added, “How about you?”

 _I’m okay_ came the reply. _But uh, actually, I was thinking about last night. I kind of want to make it up to you._

Two full seconds later, another text appeared.

_Can I take you out to dinner again sometime?_

Keith’s mouth dropped open.

“Holy shit, he really _does_ like me, doesn’t he?” he said aloud, staring at the text.

This was an unexpected development. James actually liked Keith. Despite the rocky start they’d gotten out to at the beginning of the semester, what with his odd penchant for staring at Keith and turning slightly red whenever Keith returned James’ vacant stares with a questioning one of his own, Keith had never thought he would find himself in this situation.

But here they were.

Right now, Keith was well on his way to passing his midterms and transferring to a better school, just like how he’d wanted when he’d first enrolled in all those physics and engineering courses. Art school had been a bust and well... Shiro had been a bust, too but... He could try dating James. And if he were going to start dating James, he should quit those part-time prostitution gigs, stop picking up clients entirely and maybe take on a job as a barista at the cafe he frequented so often with Romelle. Thanks to the money Shiro had already paid him, Keith could finish paying his rent for the rest of the year if he just continued to stay in his crappy little apartment. And if he really focused on his studies, with someone like James giving him free help with his assignments, he just might be able to turn his life around.

He was texting back before he realized what he was doing, his thumb hovering above the screen, ready to press send.

Then, he heard a tiny, high-pitched sound he had not heard for what felt like years.

_BEEP_

Someone had unlocked the front door.

He looked up and put away his phone, text unsent, just as the sound of running footsteps came barreling towards him from down the hall.

How many times had he turned towards that door with indigo eyes shining and a smile growing wide upon his face? How many times had he looked upon Shiro’s familiar, handsome features and felt the warmth within his chest expanding so quickly it seemed his body would never be able to contain it? And how many times had he lost his senses entirely when he saw Shiro smiling back at him?

But Shiro wasn’t smiling now and Keith could see why. His heart ached.

“Shiro.”

Shiro was a mess. His bangs were stuck to his sweat-lined forehead, his suit jacket severely wrinkled about the shoulders with his tie in complete disarray and he was breathing hard and leaning on the door frame for support as he gazed upon Keith with wide, steel-gray eyes and his mouth hanging slack. In the days since Keith was gone, the shadows under Shiro’s beautiful gray eyes had returned with a vengeance and Keith’s heart twinged painfully in his chest yet again as he wondered if he had been the cause.

But then Shiro’s lips parted just a fraction of an inch and as a single name issued out from between them as soft and reverent as a prayer, all thoughts of leaving vanished into the disappearing space between them.

“Keith.”

He rushed forward without so much as a second word, wrapping his arms tightly around Keith’s shoulders, his prosthetic fingers running through Keith’s thick, dark hair as if he were making sure Keith were really here and not more than an illusion conjured by a sleep-deprived mind.

“You’re here,” he whispered fervently against Keith’s temple, an almost imperceptible break in his voice as he continued to card his fingers through the layers of Keith’s bangs. “You’re really here.”

 _I am,_ Keith wanted to say. _It’s me, Shiro, I’m here._

But his throat was dry, like it had been packed full of sand and though he opened his mouth to try to speak, not even a croak could make its way out.

“The receptionist told me she saw you coming back to the room,” Shiro said, arms tightening around Keith’s smaller body. “And you haven’t been answering my texts. Keith...”

He reluctantly pulled himself away, as if Keith would disappear if he stopped holding onto him but as he cradled Keith’s face in the warmth of his natural hand, a distant memory pricked at the back of the younger man’s mind. The weight of Romelle’s notebook suddenly became more apparent in his hands.

Shiro smiled, his silver eyes dancing with a light that seemed to come from within.

“I was so worried about you.”

He gently brushed his thumb along the curve of Keith’s cheek and as if on command, Keith’s eyes fluttered closed.

_Stop._

“I thought I’d never see you again...” Shiro whispered, his voice every bit as low and husky in its breathlessness as Keith remembered.

_Stop it._

“I missed you, baby.”

_Don’t call for me like that. Please..._

“Come here...”

Smooth, prosthetic fingers brushed against the nape of Keith’s neck, tickling the baby hairs at the base of his skull and he felt himself being pulled closer, back into the warmth of the arms he craved so much, back into the embrace of the man he so wanted to call his own—

“NO!!”

The sound of a hard smack echoed throughout the room.

Keith’s hands shot out and collided directly with the solid wall of muscle that was Shiro’s chest, abruptly forcing him back until they were suddenly a good foot and a half apart. Shiro, looking utterly shocked and confused and actually _hurt_ , stared with wide gray eyes at the man standing before him, a man who was breathing hard with sweat running down his temple, his open palms still held out in front of him like a shield. When Keith dared speak again at last, his voice was so ragged, so broken, he hardly recognized it as his own.

“I can’t... I can’t do this.”

Droplets hit the ground at his feet, collecting on the notebook where it had fallen upon the floor and soaking into the thickened paper of the cover. He watched the ink comprising Romelle’s name run until it and everything else in his bang-framed line of sight blurred together into smears of color and shade.

“It’s over, Shiro. I’m ending...”

He flung out a half-gloved hand, gesturing between the two of them to indicate the arrangement they’d had.

“ _This._ Whatever this is. You’re no longer my client.”

He could feel the tears flowing down his face as he quickly straightened up and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and wiped at them again. But no matter how many times he tried to clear them away, the tears continued to pour from his eyes in a steady, continuous stream. So he just bent down, scraped Romelle’s notebook off the floor and headed for the door.

“Goodbye, Shiro.”

But as he tried to brush past Shiro’s shoulder, a hand closed tightly around his wrist like a steel trap.

“Keith, wait.”

“No!” Keith snapped. He tried to jerk his arm out of Shiro’s grasp but the man’s mechanical fingers only tightened around Keith’s wrist.

“Let go of me!”

“No!”

Despite the firm grip he had around Keith’s wrist, Shiro sounded frightened, his wide, gray eyes clouding with what looked like anguish.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

“I _said_ ,” Keith snarled, “ _Let go!_ ”

His leg collided with something around Shiro’s midsection, the solid crack of a landed hit ringing throughout the bedroom from the force of his kick. He was about to pull away his leg away and break for the door when he realized he couldn’t move.

His indigo eyes widened in shock.

In the brief second it had taken for Keith to move, Shiro had somehow managed to drop his wrist, catch Keith’s leg in his mechanical hand and stop his kick as if Keith were no stronger than a small child. Before he could even begin to process what had happened, Keith found himself pinned against a wall, cold paneling against his back, not two feet from the open door and Shiro standing before him with his fingers closed tightly over both of Keith’s wrists.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” he whispered, hanging his head so that his forelock fell over one eye. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His grip loosened by just a fraction and as it did, Keith gradually stopped struggling to break loose. He could hear the _agony_ in Shiro’s voice as if it were his own— _feel_ it, _because_ it was his own and as he lifted his chin so that he could meet Shiro’s gaze, he found himself staring into a pair of eyes that were startlingly more liquid mercury than steel. There was torment and heartache written in every fleck of Shiro’s silvery gray eyes and the more Keith stared into their depths, the more it felt like something sharp was sinking deeper and deeper into his barely beating heart.

“I just want you to talk to me,” Shiro implored, desperately searching Keith’s eyes as if the answers he sought lay somewhere deep within. He swallowed uneasily and when he spoke again, Keith had to turn away because of how much he _hated_ how Shiro sounded like he was begging when he should never have to beg _anyone_ , much less Keith.

“ _Please_ , talk to me, Keith.”

But he couldn’t.

So he just stood there silently with his back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut and his lip tucked stubbornly between his teeth, waiting as blood slowly began to fill his mouth until Shiro would finally let go and accept what needed to happen.

After what felt like an eternity, Shiro sighed and Keith could tell from the slump of his shoulders and weakening of his grip that the end had come at last.

“Alright. I’ll let you go,” Shiro declared, his voice somehow holding steady, even if he looked on the verge of coming apart. His gray eyes looked dull. “But before I do... Can I ask you to do one last thing for me?”

Keith slowly nodded.

“Tell me—”

Shiro’s voice suddenly broke.

“Tell me that you don’t have any feelings for me.”

Keith’s heart stopped.

“I just need to hear you say it once,” Shiro mumbled. “And I can pay you for it if that’s what you need, but I can’t move on until I hear you say—”

“I can’t.”

Shiro’s jaw snapped shut.

His gray eyes found Keith’s.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because...”

And this time, it was Keith’s voice that broke. “Because I’d be lying."

He looked up, his indigo irises shining like jewels, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill out the corners of his reddened eyes, his voice no louder than a soft rasp.

"Please... don’t ask me to lie to you, Shiro, it’s the one thing I can’t do—”

And before the rest of his words could leave his mouth, Shiro abruptly silenced him with a sudden, passionate kiss.

Keith didn’t even have time to close his eyes.

“Shiro...!” he gasped when Shiro pulled away at last, his back stiffening painfully against the cold, hard wall as Shiro’s lips collided with his yet again.

He felt Shiro’s grip tightening around his wrists.

“Then don’t lie to me,” Shiro whispered fervently, kissing away the tears that had not yet dried upon Keith’s warm, reddened cheeks. “Don’t force yourself to lie. You can talk to me when you’re ready to but _please, God,_ don’t _ever_ run away from me again—”

“I won’t—” Keith promised, kissing him back, tasting the salt from his own tears as Shiro’s lips descended upon his once more. “I’ll never leave you alone again, Shiro, I _swear_ I won’t—”

“Good,” Shiro breathed, swallowing the rest of Keith’s words with yet another soul-searing kiss. “Because you’re crazy if you think I’d ever let you go again.”

Keith laughed and upon seeing Keith smile at last, Shiro's face split into an open grin.

“I think I’ve already gone a little crazy,” Keith admitted breathlessly,

“Me too,” Shiro chuckled, kissing him again.

"Me too." Pressing one, final, forceful kiss to Keith’s lips, Shiro released the man’s wrists to grab a handful of ass, lifting Keith high into the air as the smaller man threw his arms around Shiro’s neck and jumped into his lover’s arms. Keith wrapped his long, thin legs around the man’s sturdy waist, anchoring himself to Shiro’s body as he threaded his fingers through the man’s hair, peppering Shiro’s face with fast, frantic kisses as they moved closer and closer to the bed. A soft moan tumbled out of his throat as Shiro’s tongue swept past his lips.

Heat erupted in his cheeks as he felt the velvety texture of the man’s tongue slipping roughly over his own, his thin, half-gloved fingers tightening abruptly in the tufts of Shiro’s hair as he realized Shiro was _tasting_ him and he willingly opened his mouth and leaned his weight forward to give Shiro more. There was something intoxicating and indescribably smoky hovering about the edges of the man’s tongue, an essence headier than the finest of wines and Keith frantically chased after that lingering aroma until he felt the slide of Shiro’s teeth against his tongue.

Shiro’s voice was a muffled laugh against his lips.

“Keith—?!”

“Make love to me,” Keith demanded, sucking indulgently on Shiro’s lower lip and groaning as he felt Shiro’s prosthetic fingers give his ass a good, hard squeeze. “Please, Shiro, I missed you so much—!”

“I will, baby, I will,” Shiro whispered affectionately, nuzzling the side of Keith’s neck as Keith shivered and coiled his arms more tightly about Shiro’s shoulders. “And I promise, I’ll make you feel real good real soon. But first...”

He gently laid Keith down in the middle of his expansive bed, stripping off his own deep-gray suit jacket and tossing it aside at the foot of the bed. His silver eyes glowed.

“Let me take my time with you. It's been a while...”

Unable to take his eyes off of Shiro, Keith nodded mutely.

Hands— _large_ hands—one mechanical and the other flesh-and-blood, reached for the lapels of his bright red jacket, peeling them down and away from his shoulders as a pair of warm, soft lips brushed sensuously against the corner of his mouth. He could feel Shiro whispering sweet nothings against his lips as he gradually removed the first layer of clothing between them, flicking the battered long-sleeved garment to the side of the bed as his fingers went for the hem of Keith’s soft cotton T-shirt.

He quietly laid back against the sheets as Shiro stretched the worn black fabric away from his body, watching the way the man’s gorgeous gray eyes slowly darkened at the sight of his uncovered abs and shivering as the cold air hit his newly exposed skin. Without warning, Shiro bent low and brought his face to the soft, delicate curves of Keith’s lower belly, his breath tickling the wiry black hairs just below his navel as his bright pink tongue darted out and licked a broad, flat line up the delicate lines of Keith’s abs. Flinching sharply at the unexpected contact, Keith cried out in surprise.

“Your skin is so smooth,” Shiro whispered, mouthing his way up the middle of Keith’s stomach as his lover trembled and shook under his touch. “Like porcelain...”

He pushed the hem of Keith’s shirt up over the flat planes of his chest and quietly licked his lips.

“Keith...”

His fingers went to one of the darkened nubs of flesh on either side of Keith’s chest, his lips abruptly encircling the other and Keith jerked as Shiro suddenly took one of the small, sensitive stubs between his teeth.

“ _Shiro—!_ ”

His fingernails dug into the firm muscle of Shiro’s shoulders, his voice pitching up into a soft whine and the thin white fabric of Shiro’s starched expensive shirt wrinkled like paper between his fingers. Smooth metallic fingers and lightly moistened lips twisted and pinched around the corners of Keith’s chest, parts of his body that had so rarely been touched suddenly overwhelmed with sensation and Keith gasped and writhed as Shiro continued to play with his body. Heat was rising in his cheeks and flooding into his brain, his body responding full force to Shiro’s ministrations after being days of being deprived of the very touch he craved above all else and the only thing he could think of as Shiro finally started unzipping his jeans was an urgent need for relief.

He felt Shiro unlatch himself from his flushed and burning skin with a soft smack, watched him wipe at his dark-pink lips with a softly refined brush of his thumb and he sat himself down on Keith’s tingling thighs as he loosened his tie with one hand while he palmed his lover across the front of his pants with the other.

“Baby...” he breathed, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as he watched Keith with softly hooded eyes. He cast aside his tie. “Keith, baby...”

Keith hissed as Shiro’s grip tightened around his clothed lower half, his breath coming in short, spastic gasps as he felt Shiro’s touch grow more insistent around his stiffening shaft, throwing his head back and cursing loudly as Shiro finally released him into the open air.

The weight above his body slowly shifted further south and Keith blearily followed the top of Shiro’s head down his half-naked body and stared with indigo eyes wide as Shiro hovered just about his swollen erection.

With one last whisper of Keith’s name, Shiro bent forward and in one fluid motion took half of Keith’s cock into his mouth.

Keith swore.

"Shiro!!"

He twisted and he gasped.

“ _Shiro—!!_ ”

He felt Shiro’s large hands gripping the sides of his narrow hips, sturdy prosthetic fingers digging securely into the hard lines of Keith’s pelvis to keep him still as his lips continued slip further down Keith's shaft and Keith mewled pathetically in his grasp.

“Shh... baby, just relax,” Shiro whispered soothingly as he took his mouth away to speak. “Let me do this for you. Let me _taste_ you.”

“But, Shiro— _Ah—_ ”

His head snapped back as Shiro took him into his mouth once more. _I’m the one who should be doing this to_ you _. Not the other way around._

But Shiro was persistent, working at him with soft kisses and reassuring words until Keith fell back limply against the sheets and let the man continue, watching with half-lidded eyes as Shiro continued doing to him what Keith had done to Shiro on their very first night together.

He could feel Shiro’s tongue dragging against the ridge along the underside of his shaft, swirling around the folds separating head from length, licking away the droplets beading up at the tip of his head and Keith _moaned_ as Shiro’s lips stretched over his cock and _sucked_. He was practically melting in Shiro’s mouth, his half-gloved fingers clutching weakly at the sheets, his T-shirt still wrinkled and bunched around his collarbones as Shiro continued to suck him off, completely at the mercy of the man holding down his hips and licking him to a slow and agonizing orgasm.

“Baby, you taste so good...” Shiro murmured between hot, quick kisses interspersed with subtle flicks of tongue. “ _So good._ ”

“ _Shiro...!_ ” he gasped, knuckles going white against the sheets. " _Fuck--_ "

He could feel the pressure steadily building in his lower half, molten heat flooding into his chest and climbing high into his cheeks. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breath was coming out in labored pants and half-choked moans as he struggled and writhed in Shiro’s grip, tears leaking out the corner of his eyes as Shiro brought his hand up to supplement his mouth and tightened his fist around Keith’s cock. He started to pump it up and down, slowly at first, then faster and within seconds, Keith’s eyes snapped open in alarm.

“Wait, Shiro—! _Stop, I’m gonna—!_ ”

“ _Come for me, baby_ ,” Shiro hummed around his length and without intending to, Keith obeyed.

He let out a short, strangled shout, his back arching clean off the bed as he came in hard, fast spurts, instinctively bucking into Shiro’s hot, wet mouth as he completely gave himself over to his release. Hot seed spilled out the corners of Shiro’s half open mouth, running down his flushed lower lip in an uneven trickle and flecking the rugged lines of the scar across his nose with thick, creamy white. Keith flushed as he watched the liquid slide down Shiro's face and his mouth dropped open in shock when Shiro slowly ran his tongue over his lips and grinned.

"Good boy."

Keith flushed even darker.

Shiro wiped his face with a corner of the bed’s rumpled linens, laughing and smiling as Keith sat up and apologized profusely, frantically looking around for a tissue or _something_ to clean Shiro up with. Shaking his head in amusement, Shiro finally dove forward and silenced Keith by tackling him back to the bed and kissing him until he was too breathless to continue talking.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Shiro chuckled, leaning over Keith as he pinned his lover to the mattress. He took the edge of Keith’s shirt in his hands and lifted it up over his head, giving Keith an eyeful of that massive bulge in his pants as he moved up over Keith’s body.

“Shiro...”

He reached out and undid the buckle holding up Shiro’s slacks, his fingers already pinching at the zipper when Shiro stopped him and guided his hands upwards.

“Keith.”

His voice was gentle, affectionate. He placed Keith’s hands on the buttons of his shirt, the first one already undone. He tapped at it.

“Start here.”

Keith swallowed dryly.

“Okay.”

He took off his gloves and cast them aside. His slender fingers pushed the topmost button through its hole, the subtle popping sound ringing his ears as it came undone and his indigo eyes flicked upwards before he reached for the next one. Shiro smiled, his fingers curling in the messy locks of Keith’s dark hair.

“Keith Kogane.”

He brushed his lips against Keith’s forehead as the younger man undid the next couple buttons.

“ _My Keith_.”

“I’m yours, Shiro,” Keith whispered hoarsely, pressing a kiss to the newly exposed line of Shiro’s pecs. His fingers continued to work their way down, the pale, golden “V” of Shiro’s muscular upper body slowly starting to emerge and Keith kissed at every inch of that lightly scarred skin as it steadily came into view.

“I’m yours, _Takashi_.”

He was pushed back against the sheets and he saw Shiro leaning over him with his silver eyes sparkling like crystalline shards.

“Say that again,” he breathed.

“Takashi,” Keith repeated and he tilted his chin up to accept Shiro’s burning kiss.

He opened his eyes. He couldn't remember how to breathe.

In the rays of the mid-afternoon sun, Shiro had been transformed. The bold lines of his muscles shone brightly in the warm, yellow light, his back-lit body glowing as if carved from solid gold, washing out the jagged lines of his scars so that they appeared to be no more than mere outlines within a beautiful silhouette. Warmth shone from deep within the depths of Shiro’s eyes, his silvery irises transmuted by the glow of the reflected sun from burnished metal to brilliant gemstone, as if an entire galaxy of glittering, sparkling stars had been compressed into two silver rings and in the center of those radiant silver eyes, Keith could see his own reflection staring back.

Shiro smiled.

“You’re so beautiful,” Keith whispered, reaching out to touch Shiro’s face.

“You’re the one who’s beautiful, Keith,” Shiro replied quietly, taking Keith’s hand and pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. “Let me make love to you, like you wanted.”

“Yes...” Keith breathed.

He helped Shiro take off his slacks, tugging his own half-opened jeans off of his legs in the process and Shiro quickly pushed the garments off the bed so that they hit the floor in a discarded heap. And then they were lying fully naked on top of the sheets, Shiro hovering over Keith’s body on all fours, with his hands splayed on either side of Keith’s flushed face.

“Keith...”

Shiro’s whisper was once again as reverent as a prayer as he lifted his human hand up to brush the stray hairs away from Keith’s face, combing through the darkened locks as if they had been spun from strands of glass. He cupped Keith’s cheek and his thumb flitted across warm, pink skin as Keith's lashes fluttered closed and he placed a chaste, gentle kiss upon his lover's lips as he opened the tiny packet of lube Keith had retrieved from underneath Shiro’s pillow. His lips moving softly against Keith’s, he warmed it in the middle of his large hand before dipping a single digit in the liquid, bringing it out to carefully tease and work his way around Keith’s entrance. He pushed it in.

Keith moaned into the kiss, parting his lips as he felt his body opening around Shiro’s touch, taking Shiro’s tongue back into his mouth as he allowed the finger to slide deeper into his body. Soft, deliberate strokes coated the inside of his entrance, gently coaxing him and helping him to relax until he was wide enough to allow the second finger in and Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck to deepen their kiss as Shiro’s middle finger slipped in all the way up to the knuckle.

“Shiro...”

He rocked down on those fingers, feeling Shiro groan against his lips as he clenched and squeezed around him, getting himself off on those digits as the blood rushed back to his groin and stiffened his cock. As it swelled and grew, his shaft rose into the air until the tip was lying flush against the thick, hard mass that was Shiro’s erection, slick clear liquid spilling out of the larger man’s opening and dripping onto Keith’s shaft. He sucked on Shiro’s tongue and continued to grind against his fingers as slick, warm, droplets landed on his stomach and ran down his sides in tiny rivulets onto the sheets. He pulled Shiro even closer, his grip tightening on Shiro's shoulders as the man inserted yet another finger.

His eyebrows contracted and he nibbled on Shiro’s lip.

“Shiro, more.”

He squeezed as Shiro groaned.

" _More._ "

“Patience yields focus, baby,” Shiro murmured against his mouth, kissing Keith’s cheek and burying his face in the hollow of Keith’s long, slender neck. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

  
“I _do_ feel good,” Keith protested, his voice ending in a sharp intake of breath as Shiro nipped at the soft flesh just below his ear. “I want _you_ to feel good too.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro laughed, inserting the fourth and final finger as Keith let out a strangled sob. “You’re so cute. Alright.”

He took his prosthetic fingers out with a soft noise that sounded like a squish and his hands wrapped securely around Keith’s thighs, dimpling in the pale flesh as he hiked Keith up to the right level. He began positioning himself at Keith’s loosened, dripping entrance and he bit his lip as he started pushing his way in.

Keith gasped and called out Shiro’s name. He felt himself contracting and opening around that massive girth and his fists wrinkled in the sheets as Shiro slowly buried his cock in Keith's ass. He was so much thicker than Keith remembered him to be and he felt the smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his legs around Shiro's waist and sighed. At the angle Shiro was holding his legs, it didn’t take long for him to fully seat himself inside and as the tip of his cock hit Keith in the place he liked it most, he let out another dry sob and buried his face against Shiro’s chest.

“Shiro—!”

He tightened his grip around Shiro’s waist, crossing his ankles to anchor himself in place as the man began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, hitting Keith’s prostate at a steady rhythm until Keith was almost incoherent from stimulation. Sweat was running down his temples and into his dark, messy hair, his breath coming in labored gasps.

“Shiro,” he groaned, his fingernails digging sharply into Shiro’s sweat-soaked skin. He pulled himself up and sank his teeth into Shiro’s neck.

“ _Takashi...!_ ”

He felt that familiar pressure building up in his lower half again, surprisingly quick given how little time had passed since his last release. As Shiro's thrusts sped up and became more forceful than before, Keith found himself losing the ability to hold back.

“Takashi,” he choked out. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could taste Shiro's blood on his tongue. “ _Takashi—!!_ ”

His body shook with the force of a violent orgasm, his cries echoing off the walls as Shiro continued to pound into him from above until he suddenly shouted out Keith’s name and jerked forward, filling his lover to the brim with hot, viscous cum as Keith contracted sharply around him. Half-delirious from the effects of their lovemaking, as Shiro started to pull away, Keith yanked him down for one final, sloppy kiss and let the words leave his mouth at last.

“ _I love you._ ”

* * *

“So, Keith,” Shiro mumbled sleepily, casually stroking Keith’s hair as they lay cuddling between wrinkled, sweat-soaked sheets, “You said I wasn’t your client any more, right?”

“Yeah…?” Keith slowly replied, raising one dark eyebrow in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

Shiro frowned, his thick white brows creasing together as he rubbed his chin in thought, looking rather serious as his gray eyes drifted up to Keith's.

“If I’m not your client any more, then that means I don’t need to pay you for that. Right?”

He laughed as Keith threw a pillow at him.

From somewhere in the room, a phone went off. Keith sat up at once, dropping his second pillow and forgetting momentarily that he was trying to suffocate Shiro.

“ _Shit!_ That’s Romelle!”

He brushed off Shiro’s hands and tried to leap off the bed but Shiro caught him by the arm.

“Baby, where are you going?”

He dragged Keith back between the sheets and kissed his way up Keith’s neck, thick arms tightening around Keith’s middle as the younger man laughed and squirmed in his grasp.

“Shiro, stop—that tickles!”

“Didn’t I just say I was never letting you go again?” Shiro teased, punctuating his movements with a quick bite to Keith’s earlobe.

Keith grimaced as the phone buzzed yet again.

“I was supposed to meet Romelle at the downtown cafe at four and bring her back the notebook,” he muttered, wincing as the phone went to voicemail. “She’s gonna kill me if I don’t.”

Shiro’s eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise and his eyes flicked over to his alarm clock.

“Downtown? But it’s getting pretty late, you’d have to leave right now to do that.”

“I know,” Keith groaned, bringing his hands to his face. “I don’t want to leave yet but if I don’t, I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

Shiro let him go and sat up.

“How about... I get someone to take it there for you? I can call in a favor.”

He picked up the cordless phone lying on top of the nightstand beside the alarm clock and punched in a few numbers. Keith watched as he turned slightly to the side and asked to speak to the front desk, abruptly switching over to a foreign language Keith didn’t understand. As his gray eyes drifted back to Keith’s naked torso, his lips curled into a smile and at once, Keith instinctively tugged the covers higher over his chest. Laughing under his breath, Shiro bid the person on the other end of the line goodbye in English and then hung up the phone.

“Plaxum will be up in a few minutes to collect the notebook. She’ll get someone to bring it to your friend and you...”

He pushed Keith back down onto his back and fixed him with a heated look.

“You can stay here with me a little longer.”

“Seriously? Just one call and it's done?”

Keith asked incredulously.

“Yep,” Shiro said, smiling.

“Wow..." Keith mumbled, closing his eyes and breathing in as Shiro's hand once again crawled down his abs. "What exactly do you do for a living?”

“I’ll tell you one day,” Shiro whispered, softly kissing his lips. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of the first arc (yes that's right, this is only 1/3 of the fic)!! Thank you all so much for reading!  
> Your comments make my day and I've re-read so many of them. Your feedback has really helped make this fic what it is and I am truly honored that such wonderful people would be talking to me over this weird idea I got back in the middle of October.  
> Thank you all!!  
> If you'd like to, you can reach me at @UrsaMinorKey on twitter, Patchwork_Panda on Tumblr or Patchwork_Panda on Discord (ID #8843).
> 
> Seriously, thank you thank you thank you!
> 
> And last but not least, fuck you, season 8 :)


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